Crippled Clock Work
by EggPanPockyMan
Summary: What happens to the destructive powers Fayt is never able to fully master after saving the universe? FaytxAlbel pairing. Takes place after the events of SO3.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean. **

**_"blah blah blah..." - Parts of a dream sequence_**

_"blah blah blah..." - Thoughts_

"blah blah blah..." - Conversing through a communicator

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**Prologue **

.**  
**

His heart is _**tick-**_

_**tick-**_

_**ticking.**_

His hair hangs limp with sweat.

_**Drip-**_

_**drip-**_

_**dripping-**_

gripping clumps of dirt between his shaky fingers,

fear tightening its choke hold on his neck.

"_Breathe."_ He thinks. Dull eyes concentrate on blades of grass ripped from the ground.

He is haggard, fresh with wounds beaten into him by "_another nightmare."_

._  
_

_**Tick**_

_**Tick**_

_**Tick**_

._**  
**_

He exhales loudly while bending his back.

A cooling breeze caresses his damp chest, tight with muscle and marked with scars.

.

Hissing, he sits on his knees. Behind closed eyes,

_**black angels dig their claws into limbless bodies, staring at him with crooked eyes. **_

_**They glide through darkness and rip his eyes from his face. **_

_**They punch his mouth, lips bruised like the skin of a rotting apple. **_

This dream will not leave him alone.

.

He turns his head to gaze at a bundle of blankets rise and fall near a dimming campfire.

Leather packs rest beside a pile of worn armor needing to be shined.

.

"_Are Albel's nightmares this bad?"_ He wonders while walking towards his sleeping companion.

Albel's screams at night are hard to forget. He calls out for his father, his claw slicing the air to escape bullying nightmares.

All Fayt can do is hold his hand, hoping the warmth is calming enough to silence his cries.

Albel has been oblivious to his actions of comfort. He is determined to keep it that way.

The last thing he wants is to be pushed away and blamed for pity.

.

The fire flickers in the vast forest of Elicoor II.

Ever since the battle with Luther, Fayt secretly vowed to never tap into his destructive gene, the implications of its use heavy on his mind.

However, his suppressed powers have been projecting cravings for violence through his dreams these past few months.

.

_**SNAP**_

_**.  
**_

_**A body is thrown at him, toppling his balance. **_

_**It is Albel, short of a metal arm and liquid sizzling with-**_

He gasps from the shock of pain crawling up his back.

.

_"I can't worry about this right now, especially with Albel here."_

Fayt adjusts his position. _"I'll deal with it when I can be alone."_

_.  
_

Is this what his father envisioned for him? Did he ever look past what would happen after the universe was saved?

Does Maria or Sophia deal with the same struggle?

.

_**He wants to tell the stars, the underdeveloped planets, the limbless bodies, **_

_**and Albel he's sorry for having a power he doesn't know how to handle.**_

_**He begs the black angels to punish him alone, his empty sockets **_

_**drip,**_

_**drip, **_

_**dripping bloody tears.**_

._**  
**_

_**One speaks:**_

**"**_**You will hear nothing but the deafening silence of your failures to the one god."**_

._**  
**_

_**Tick**_

_**Tick**_

_**Tick**_

._**  
**_

He does not notice Albel gazing at his struggle to silence his haggard breathing.

Those bloody raspberry eyes narrow with questions.

.

_**Tick**_

_**Tic-**_

_**His heart explodes but he is not dead.**_

_**He is sorry for being born.**_

._**  
**_


	2. I

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**I**

.

Fayt's lips curl into an unsure smile as he chews.

The peach tastes salty, its juice dripping mischief down his fingers.

Displeased, he takes a napkin and wipes at the offending liquid.

.

Albel watches him take another bite in amusement as more juice trickles from his mouth.

Exasperated, Fayt places the offending fruit on the plate before him.

.

"There's no good way to eat fruit is there?" Fayt pouts,

tipping a pitcher towards the cloth in his hand. The fabric bleeds water. He wipes his mouth.

.

Albel can think of a few excellent ways to eat fruit,

none of them involving his fingers.

.

"Don't complain maggot." Albel responds sharply.

He hunches over the table they share, eyeing the dim lighting of the breakfast bar at the inn.

.

They had traveled for two days and arrived in Peterny this morning.

Obtaining a room for the night was pleasantly entertaining,

especially when the innkeeper questioned the type of accommodations they desired:

Single or double beds?

.

Fayt opted for double beds, stating reasons of personal space.

Albel argued for a single since it was cheaper.

The matter was decided once he pointed the Crimson Scourge in the innkeeper's face,

threatening to use her hair as threads for a pretty necklace,

her eyes the beads, and her fingers the clasp.

.

She was too afraid to change the accommodations after that.

.

Albel quiets as soon as he snickers, realizing he's staring at Fayt, who gazes at flames spitting ashes from the nearby fireplace,

his eyes glazed and shiny like the green glass bottles at the breakfast bar.

.

Albel lifts an eyebrow and averts his attention to the wooden floors covered in carpets checkered green and white.

He realizes the orange linens on the table clash with Fayt's hair. No, he didn't just think that, honestly.

.

"-bel!" Fayt shouts grumpily. He isn't used to Albel being absentminded.

.

"_What_?" He growls, taking a swig of his cheap wine.

.

"We're heading to Aquios," states Fayt, "Nel wants us to visit. Cliff and the others will be there too."

Albel's throat tightens. He refuses to vomit at the thought of a reunion.

.

"When was this decided?" Albel questions cockily. "I didn't know you make the decisions in our relationship."

Fayt flushes and pushes the bowl of fruit away.

.

"You don't want to see them?" Fayt leaves Albel's comments to hang unanswered.

.

"I already have to deal with one fool, being around a group of them will impede my judgment."

Fayt rolls his eyes. He stands suddenly, hands flat against the table.

.

"I'm going for a walk. I'll be back later." He doesn't wait for a reply.

.

Albel takes note of Fayt's strained expression.

.

~o~

.

The sky covers Fayt's shoulders in a shawl of faded sunshine encrusted with stars.

.

_**Albel's hair frames a faceless face.**_

_**Fayt takes his sword, tracing a thin line just above Albel's chin.**_

_**The cut gaps, drools bubbling blood, and screams.**_

.

He jolts awake, hyper aware of his drying throat and sweating face.

He sits on the stone steps in the main square of Peterny.

"Did I dose off?"

.

Fayt leans forward and rests his forehead on his crossed arms, blocking out the activity bustling around him.

He stares at the dirt embedded in the rock with half lidded eyes, slow and tired from lack of sleep.

.

His back is itching.

.

Fayt bites his lips, his eyebrows scrunching together.

He wants to tell someone he is hurting deeper than in the recesses of his heart.

His lips are a strained line.

He wants to tell Albel to stop being a prissy bitch and listen to his problems.

Fayt shakes his head.

He wants to ask Albel how to cope with dead bodies.

His lips crumble into a frown.

He wants something more solid than an insincere reassurance and a half baked friendship.

.

Fayt sucks in a breath, the itchiness blooming into pain. He massages his face with his hands.

"Just breathe, it'll pass." He coaxes his heart from its erratic beating.

He squeezes his eyes shut as **women claw at his face, scratching **_**D I E**_** onto his cheeks.**

.

**Tick**

**Tick**

**Tic-**

.

Looking up, Fayt finds a vendor trying to calm a sobbing little girl.

A burly man with a chiseled beard, supposedly the girl's father, is shouting.

The vendor is apologetic and doesn't understand how the cart tipped over; he hadn't been touching it.

Carrots, lettuce, and tomatoes spread like a tattered dress around her, caked in blood trickling from her broken leg.

Chipped wood from the cart is embedded below her knee.

.

What catches Fayt's attention are foreign letters entangled in curved markings, which peek beneath the upturned food cart.

They glow a soft blue, pulsate like a mechanical heart, slowly fading like the color draining from Fayt's face.

.

"Oh no…"

.

Fayt stands quickly and walks away from the girl and the growing crowd, away from himself.

.

~o~

.

Albel swings the Crimson Scourge horizontally, observing its narrow tip gleaming metal stardust in the night.

He twirls the blade, eyeing the second floor window of the inn where Fayt sleeps in the dead of night.

He has gone to bed earlier than expected, stating he was feeling unwell.

.

Albel scoffs. He does not appreciate being lied too; it is the mark of a weak warrior.

However, based on his past experience with Fayt, he is nothing near weak as his lithe frame suggests.

.

Upon further thought, Fayt is altogether strange lately, weary and unfocused at once,

and less tolerant of his mischievousness than he cares to admit.

He also developed a habit of ignoring Albel's piercing gaze. He does not like to be ignored.

.

The thought sours his mood. He sheaths the Crimson Scourge and returns to the inn.

The innkeeper is half asleep at the front desk as he quietly climbs the stairs,

his hair tails swaying softly. After a few moments, he opens the door to his room.

.

Fayt sleeps near the bed's edge, close to the window, his back turned to the door.

Albel is surprised to see him shirtless as his usual habit is to keep himself constantly clothed. Then again, it _is_ humid.

.

It is on rare occasion he is able to see the Symbolic tattoo on Fayt's back.

.

Foreign blue letters create a vertical row of three jagged circles.

The first and third circles appear the same size, the second twice as large, a thin ring encased inside each shape.

A vertical line of the foreign words begin at the base of Fayt's hairline, running down the middle of his back, cutting each circle in half.

.

The only time Albel has seen such a language was when Sophia, Maria, or Fayt used the powers given to them by their parents.

Sophia is the only other person to ever see the markings. She commented on how pretty they looked.

.

Fayt had frowned at the statement and has kept his shirt on ever since.

.

Albel sits on his side of the bed, removing his gear and shoes. He lies down, facing a tattooed back.

A metal digit ghosts over the sleeping swordsman's skin, tracing the curves of each circle.

Eyes narrowing, he retracts his claw, and grimaces.

Since when did he admire maggots with insecurities?

.

~o~

.

_**Scolding children push Fayt into the time out corner, where a chipped paint box sits, the lock shiny and new. **_

_**They force him to crawl inside the cramped space. He hears the lock snap into place as little fists beat on the lid. **_

_**Their muffled taunts clutter his ears and he cries for them to stop.**_

_**His head throbs and his eyes glow.**_

.

_**He can't hear them anymore.**_

.

_**The lock is undone. He lifts the lid and peeks outside to see little bodies scattered on the floor, tainting the wood rosemary.**_

_._

Fayt quickly awakens and fists his hands close to his face. His communicator is beeping.

.

He takes a moment too long to gaze at Albel,

who lies on his back, head tilted away from him, his chest rising gently.

.

He rolls over on his stomach, grabs the communicator off the night stand, and pushes a button.

The screen is filled with static at first and then it clears, revealing alert and awake hazel eyes.

.

"Sophia." Fayt mumbles, trying to blink the remnants of sleep away.

.

"It's been awhile!" She answers cheerfully. "How've you been?"

.

Another screen appears, showing the time.

.

"Its 6 in the morning." He states flatly. Sophia gasps, her cheeks stained pink.

.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I keep forgetting about the time difference on Elicoor II. Forgive me?"

Sophia pouts, her eyes glassy.

.

"Whatever," grumbles Fayt. He adjusts his position to feel more comfortable.

.

"So, are you going to Aquios for the reunion?" She inquires brightly.

.

"Yeah, Cliff called me about it yesterday. Apparently, he had given a communicator to Nel so they could stay in touch.

I'm surprised she even knows how to use one."

.

"I'm sure Cliff taught her." She pauses. "It really has been a while."

.

Fayt looks out the window while calculating numbers in his mind. "Seven months?"

.

"Yeah, around that." She grows silent, suddenly distracted. "I miss you."

.

"I miss you too, Sophia."

.

"I wish you would've come home when we all split up." Her tone is forlorn, sentimentality tinting her eyes a darker shade.

Fayt rests his head on his hand, his elbow bent, and sinking into the pillow.

.

"I know, but…" He isn't sure how to phrase his answer. "It feels right to be here."

.

"Do you ever think about coming back?" She sounds hopeful.

Fayt has not thought about that possibility for some time. He doesn't want to think about it.

His long time best friend manages to bring the question up every time they converse and every time he leaves her without an answer.

This time will be no different.

.

"I'm going to head back to sleep. I'm still tired."

.

"Please answer me." Sophia encourages softly.

"We can travel to places if that's what you want to do or go back to school together, may-"

.

"Stop it." Fayt sits up, tone acidic. His grip on the communicator is stiff, knuckles white.

He wants to shout, possibly cuss, yet he doesn't have the heart to yell at her. He doesn't want to tell her he's afraid.

.

Even though the universe is safe for now, it will never escape war.

Someone can find out what he really is and try to bend him for their purposes.

He doesn't want to be used, especially when his power refuses to sit idle and obey his command.

"Just respect my decision. I'll see you in Aquios soon, ok?" Fayt shuts the communicator off, throwing it towards the end of the bed.

Why does she keep pressing the matter? Can't they enjoy a simple conversation without bringing _that_ up?

.

He falls back on the mattress, rubbing his face in the pillow. He almost yelps at seeing Albel's annoyed stare.

.

"Sorry." Fayt says sheepishly and sighs heavily. "I didn't mean to wake you."

.

"Why didn't you answer her question?" Albel lies on his stomach, gazing at his claw in boredom. Fayt is taken aback by his inquiry.

.

"Does it matter?" Fayt asks flippantly and turns his back on the older man, who _tsks_.

The bed shifts. He opens his eyes to find Albel hovering above him, eyes guarded as hair falls into his narrow face.

.

"I'm sure you wouldn't want this falling off the bed."

Albel whispers darkly, placing the communicator back on the night stand with his metal claw.

The action drives him closer to Fayt's face.

His body radiates heat like a suffocating summer Fayt doesn't mind gasping in,

smelling of dark adventures, crushed petals, and spice.

.

Albel returns to his side of the bed while pulling the covers, breaking the spell.

.

Fayt breathes heavily, returning to sleep, choking on confessions swollen with never kisses.

.


	3. II

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**II**

.

A low, menacing growl admits from Albel's throat as he and Fayt walk through Irisa Plains.

Fayt failed to mention how early they would awaken in order to start their journey to Aquios, hence his irritation.

Then again, Fayt fails to mention many things as of late.

.

Albel glares at the rickety twigs his boots crunch on and sneers.

.

Now that he thinks of it, the most notable occurrence he picks up on is Fayt's periodic irritability with his back.

Has his companion grown a rash of some sort and is too embarrassed to speak of it?

Albel scoffs at the idea as soon as he thinks it.

They have been traveling together for several months; Albel feels deserving of some trust.

.

"I hope we won't get there too late." Fayt speaks to someone on the communicator while glancing periodically at his surroundings.

.

Albel watches the slow sway of Fayt's hips, his body creating the outer curve of a banana, annoyingly attractive to look at.

.

"Yeah, I guess so." Fayt stares at Albel in a sideways glance, eyes inquiring. "I gotta go, we'll see you tonight Cliff!"

Fayt pockets the communicator and readjusts his grip on his sword.

.

"We should reach Aquios before night fall. Luckily it isn't as far from Peterny as Airyglyph." Fayt informs.

Albel has the strong urge to roll his eyes but crosses his arms instead, the resemblance of a pouting child _almost_ uncanny.

Fayt sighs and faces forward, his strides lengthening.

.

**Tick**

.

He absentmindedly rubs his back.

.

**Tick**

.

Irritated, Albel walks forward and grabs Fayt's wrist. He squeaks in surprise.

Albel's fingers are cool like the skin of plums, dark and alluring.

.

"What are you doing?" Fayt asks.

.

"Stop that."

.

"Stop what?"

.

"That _infernal_ scratching of your back. Have you developed a rash I should know of?"

He examined Fayt's back the previous night but failed to see any mark indicating Fayt to be sick.

He does not miss the weariness settling into Fayt's eyes, pupils shrinking.

If Albel is far enough, he would think Fayt doesn't have pupils at all, as if they disappear to hide secrets.

.

"What?" He laughs cautiously, shoving Albel's hand aside.

"I don't have a rash. I think I would've asked for some medicinal cream if I did, don't you think?"

.

"Then why do you keep scratching your back?" Albel cocks his hip to the side, placing his metal hand on the hilt of his blade.

.

"There's this thing some believe on Earth: when a part of your body itches, someone is talking about you." Fayt's lids lower with his sarcasm.

.

"I thought that was only when you felt an itch behind your ear." Albel deadpans.

.

Fayt is surprised Albel remembers that particular detail from a conversation months ago about the culture on Earth.

Fayt thought Albel chose to pay no attention to facts irrelevant to his survival. He guessed wrong.

.

**Tick**

**Tick**

.

"Whatever." Fayt continues to walk. Albel reaches for his wrist again. He forcefully turns Fayt to face him.

.

"Listen magg-"

.

"Cut the crap." Fayt snaps. He blinks-

.

_**-and Albel is on fire, seemingly unaware of the flames licking his sides and engulfing him into its mouth like a bloody cherry. **_

_**His clothes are singed, his hair turning into ashes. His grip remains strong on Fayt's burning wrist, bony fingers covered in scraps of melted flesh. **_

_**Fayt tries to break free, his mind smoldered by smoke, unable to think clearly. His lungs cough, his eyes blurry with tears, his-**_

.

"Hey!" Albel shakes him. Fayt blinks again.

He is untouched by fire, his face surprisingly soft, if only a bit due to the hardness of his narrowed eyes.

Albel slowly releases him and keeps his concern to himself.

.

"Let's keep going." Fayt finalizes, adjusts his pack, and continues to walk.

Albel stares after him and realizes how much more attention he needs to give Fayt if he ever wants to figure out what is going on.

.

~o~

.

They reach the city of Aquios later than expected, the time currently nearing midnight.

Albel had angered a horde of lizard like monsters with ivory tusks by a stream earlier that day.

The creatures hadn't seemed hostile at first, but after Albel took a liking to throwing rocks at them while waiting for Fayt to refill their water jugs,

they decided to do something about it.

.

More specifically, the creatures decided to discuss the matter of abuse with barred teeth and claws.

.

Albel didn't understand why Fayt was so upset about the whole thing.

.

"Have a little fun." He merrily told his miffed companion, who was in no mood to be entertained.

.

Fayt drops his bag next to Albel, who stands by the door to the local inn,

where two wooden benches sit, one of them occupied by two plump women dressed in,

Albel's opinion, too thin robes accentuating every fat roll in their bodies…in the wrong places.

.

Albel wordlessly picks up Fayt's pack and sits on the empty bench, glaring at the women who stare at his attire.

They quickly glance away, proceeding to talk in hushed whispers.

.

Albel turns his attention to Fayt, who speaks to the clerk at the wooden desk,

a row of boxes behind the stout bald man, who wears a blue vest and glasses.

.

_**Beep. Beep. Beep.**_

.

Albel groans and opens Fayt's pack. He has never liked the noise of the communicator:

loud and obnoxious, screeching for attention like an overbearing five year old.

If the blasted thing ever draws the attention of monsters,

he will leave Fayt to deal with the attack by himself without remorse.

.

Albel moves the device in his hand experimentally, cautiously pressing a button.

A man with blond shaggy hair appears on the screen.

.

"Er, Albel?" The man raises his eyebrows in surprise.

.

"Who do you think, fool?" Albel responds coolly, his claw tapping on the bench.

.

"Cliff, not fool…_asshole_." Cliff informs, whispering the last part. "Where's Fayt?"

.

"Flirting with a bald man." Albel lazily replies, glancing upward to find Fayt glaring at him, his shoulders tense, and hands curling into fists.

"He seems to be getting on well with him. I was not made aware of Fayt's liking to older men."

.

"Albel!" Fayt shouts, startling the two women and the clerk. He jogs over and attempts to snatch the device.

Albel smirks and quickly stands, the communicator dangling from his hand, depicting a confused Cliff. Albel feels deserving of some entertainment.

.

"I must know Fayt, what do you find attractive about this little man? Is it the way his head shines in the light like the buttons on his vest?"

The older swordsman inquires wickedly.

.

"Cut it out." Fayt blushes. Albel places his clawed hand on Fayt's chest to prevent him from advancing further.

.

"Or perhaps it's his spectacles? You like men with those don't you?

Maybe you can take them off and bite the ends with your teeth. I'm sure that is quite a turn on."

Albel eyes the clerk, who is flabbergasted and utterly appalled by the situation unfolding before him.

Fayt sputters, the image forming unbidden in his mind. How dare Albel embarrass him like this!

.

"I'm going to castrate you." Fayt states darkly.

.

"Don't say such a thing." Albel waves him off. "We want to make sure your current love interest thinks you are as sweet as muffins.

Make a good impression." The statement drips sarcasm. Albel approaches the desk, leans over, and grins at the clerk.

The man huffs and slams the room key down on the counter.

.

"Be off with you! Mangy dog." The clerk lifts his chin and turns away.

.

"Come here maggot!" Albel shouts, readying the Crimson Scourge.

Fayt takes the opportunity to pluck the communicator from Albel's hand. "I think your lover might be sexually frustrated."

.

Fayt can't help but laugh. His embarrassment fades but pink peach cheeks remain. The women look aghast at Albel's comment.

They give him dirty looks, pull their skirts towards their knees, and leave the inn.

.

"Maybe _you're_ sexually frustrated." Fayt fires and lifts his eyebrows suggestively.

"I didn't know you find me biting the ends of glasses a turn on. I'll keep that in mind for the next time we have an intimate night together.

We have to keep trying new things to keep the sex interesting, right?"

Fayt picks up his pack and scampers up the stairs,

talking to a confused Cliff on the communicator, leaving his companion alone and baffled.

.

Albel is sure he can hear the clerk snickering in the back room.

.

~o~

.

"I don't know how you put up with him. Your patience is amazing," comments Cliff.

Fayt leans on the window sill, the warm breeze cooling his skin and relaxing his face from smiling too hard.

.

"He isn't a jackass all the time." Fayt answers, eyeing the castle of Aquios in the distance.

The sky is dark with sleep, a few stars blocked by the passing of languid periwinkle clouds.

Fog swarms around the base of buildings lit blue by the glass lamps, making it seem as if the city floats. "He does it a lot…to be strong."

.

"Huh?" Cliff scratches his head.

.

"Albel's that way because of what he's become. I think it's something to do with his past."

Fayt's contemplative tone calms Cliff's amused demeanor.

"He doesn't talk about his life at all. He distracts himself…from himself, if that makes any sense."

He sighs sheepishly. "I think he's avoiding some part of himself, I don't know."

He fails to mention his suspicion that Albel's emotional concrete wall has something to do with his father.

.

"You're really concerned about him?" Cliff questions. Fayt shifts uncomfortably.

.

"Well, why not? He doesn't have a lot of people he can depend on…" He trails off, avoiding Cliff's gaze.

"Whatever happened to him in the past, he carries it with him everywhere. I just want him to know he can depend on me."

.

"Don't tell me, tell him that." Cliff shrugs. He's never heard Fayt talk so caring about a person,

not even of Sophia, and she has known Fayt longer than anyone else. "Is it for that reason you stick around?"

.

"What do you mean?" Fayt frowns.

.

"Well, er, he's difficult to be around, isn't easy to make friends with, you know?" Cliff explains delicately.

.

"I don't feel pity for him if that's what you're getting at." Fayt responds. He walks over to one of the double beds in the room.

He flops down, staring at the ceiling. How can he make Cliff understand without revealing too much?

"He's my friend, even if he might not consider me one."

.

"Doesn't that have to be reciprocated to be called a friendship?" Cliff argues.

Fayt shakes his head. His finger idly twirls part of the bed sheet, watching it wrinkle.

.

"You can't expect to give something and receive the exact same thing back.

I mean, if you gave a friend money for food because they were hungry,

some part of you is expecting them to repay you back the same way, but they never do.

And really, they don't have to because they didn't ask for your money in the first place;

it's just common courtesy to give back to avoid someone getting pissed at you later.

It's kind of like that with me and Albel." Fayt rolls to his side. "I'm giving him my friendship but he doesn't have to take it.

He could have left me lost on Elicoor II a long time ago, but he sticks around and protects me whenever we're against enemies.

It lets me know even if he doesn't say it; he cares for my well being on some level. That's enough for me."

Cliff is silent. The speech leaves him with more questions than he has to begin with.

.

"You're so soft-hearted." Cliff chuckles, unsure of what else to say.

.

"Soft-hearted?" Fayt smirks.

.

"Whatever, we can talk about it tomorrow. You'll _really_ be at the castle this time?" Cliff questions.

.

"I wanted to be there tonight but I'm tired and well…yeah." Fayt finishes, sure he doesn't have to say what he means.

Although, he doesn't want to explain how he isn't ready to deal with his friends.

Staying at the inn gives him extra time to postpone the inevitable.

.

"Yeah." Cliff echoes, his eyes relaxing from their tense glow. "Everyone will be waiting for you in the main courtyard around mid morning.

They're all excited. Sophia won't shut up about you."

.

"I bet."

.

"She misses you."

.

"I know." Fayt answers, unsure of how he will approach her deceivingly gentle smile.

He is sure she will try to get him alone and talk him out of staying on Elicoor II, away from his memories mixed with screams and laughter,

away from Albel, away from where he discovered what he is compatible of doing…and becoming.

.

He gently rubs his back, thinking of the tattoo underneath his fingertips,

unable to feel its markings, but knowing its damnable presence is there.

.

~o~

.

Albel leans next to his and Fayt's bedroom door in the darkness of the hallway.

A candle on a lone table lights the space in an orange glow, flickering near death.

.

Fayt's words thread through Albel's mind, sewing a blanket stuffed with warm curiosities.

The seams are fresh and the blanket woolen, absent of patterns.

Albel wants to stuff the fuzzy monster into the deepest closet of his brain to collect dust. Better yet, watch it burn.

.

Albel Nox does not do fuzzy.

.

He decides he can't go to bed yet. He slowly unsheathes the Crimson Scourge,

glaring at his reflection in the metal. He needs to sweat off his self loathing, train to reaffirm his self worth.

.

Albel Nox doesn't need a blanket to remind him of how crippled by the ripped fabric of his sins he has become.

.


	4. III

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**III**

.

Albel sits on the steps to a local bakery, a tan bricked building with a canopy striped green and yellow.

His shoulder leans against a metal lamp post, ignoring the prodding stares of passersby.

.

He doesn't need to see customers shoving to be first in line;

the obnoxious loud chatter of grumpy men and bossy women wafts through the open doorway like the smell of cookies.

.

Two children stroll by, holding hand woven baskets filled with apples.

They halt upon seeing him, finding his appearance, more specifically his shiny claw, fascinating.

His eyebrow twitches while he glares at their unabashed staring.

.

Their eyes widen as he snaps his teeth, spreads his metal digits far apart, and extends his arm as if to snatch them.

They gasp and stumble down the street, tripping over themselves. Albel smirks sadistically, satisfied at not being a street side show for the moment.

.

Albel Nox does not like children.

.

"That was mean." A voice chortles behind him. Albel bends his head backwards, viewing Fayt's upside down face.

Fayt doesn't wear his armor today. He opted for a sleeveless brown shirt unzipped in the front, exposing his collarbone,

brown boots against black slacks, and holds two paper bags in fingerless gloves.

If Fayt were to have no pants on, Albel wonders how different the view would be.

.

He lets a finger glide down the lamp post while gazing into Fayt's lighthearted eyes.

He shrugs his shoulders, pulls back, and observes the street, filled with vendors setting up their carts for the day.

.

After last night, Albel isn't sure how to approach Fayt despite the calm demeanor he exudes.

He thinks Fayt takes friendships too seriously, with him trying to be friends with _everyone_.

.

To hear him express confidence in their bond is not surprising.

What surprises Albel is Fayt's familiarity with his character, as if they've known each other for years. Is Albel that transparent?

.

Fayt hands over a paper bag to him, sitting on the opposite side of the lamp post.

Albel lifts an eyebrow as he peers at the fruit salad and slices of salted beef, already cut into portions the size of gold coins, inside the bag.

.

In Airyglyph, it has always been a misconception Albel the Wicked ate like a ravaged animal,

wolfing down meat and wine due to the secrecy of his eating habits.

.

During their travels, Fayt discovered his interesting routine of cutting _every_ meal into little pieces and sectioning them off into equal piles before he ate.

Albel Nox keeps himself on a strict diet of wine, meat, fruits, and vegetables.

When he's angry, he throws a few eggs into the equation.

.

Once, Fayt jokingly mentioned Albel ate like a fragile girl.

Afterward, he stuck a large piece of chicken in Fayt's mouth, walked away, and left the poor boy to choke.

Fayt never brought up the subject again.

.

Albel pulls out a grape, popping one into his mouth.

He side glances at his companion, who munches on a steaming loaf of bread while gazing at the cream puff cheeks of clouds.

.

He found Fayt to be a nuisance the first time they traveled together. Not much of that has changed.

However, Fayt wants to be a dependable person for him, which he already is. He actually cares.

.

Albel swallows the fruit and turns away, his claw clicking on the stone. He refuses to admit he cares for Fayt as well.

.

~o~

.

They spend the rest of their morning strolling through the streets of Aquios.

The last time they visited the city was during the war, when they left on the Diplo to fight the Creator.

.

Aquios remains resilient, sidewalks decorated with hanging plant pots, the arms of vines waving hello in the breeze.

The lips of flowers, snuggled in gardens, pucker in strawberry kisses. A few people stroll languidly, enjoying the sun, and speaking in polite whispers.

The calm atmosphere soothes Fayt until he sees the castle.

.

He rolls his head around as they approach the main entrance.

They state their business to the saluting guard. A few moments past and the guard confirms their request.

.

"The main gardens." Fayt whispers, gazing at his surroundings, pulled into a tornado of memories.

_._

_**The ink needle dripped lines of death on his back. **_

_**Cries for war echoed across the skin of Elicoor II. **_

_**The cracked skull masks of the Vendeeni.**_

_**Screams hidden in hand painted music boxes.**_

_._

_**Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. TICK. TICK TICKTICKTICKTICK**_

.

Fayt squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed. He avoided coming to this place, reminded of how deceivingly beautiful Aquios is,

hiding death and remorse behind it's dainty structure. Its tranquility can never mask the ache in Fayt's heart.

.

"Fayt, you made it!" Said swordsman is suddenly off balance by the collision of a body against him.

He is greeted by a mass of brunette hair shifting and he sees eyes, half eaten green pears, bright with delight.

.

"_Her style hasn't changed." _Fayt thinks, examining the purple t-shirt under a gray vest,

the black stockings, patterned with stars, hugging her legs and disappearing under a purple skirt. She stands on the tips of her purple boots.

.

"Sophia." Fayt responds, hugging her back. He misses her; he truly does, but can't help feel the trouble her presence brings to his mind.

He shoves the thought away, deciding to enjoy the moment.

.

The main garden is a large stone platform surrounded by an assortment of vivacious red, yellow, and orange flowers mimicking a vast sunset.

The ground curves deep enough to create a pond in the center, water stagnate and speckled with lily pads.

.

"_This wasn't here before."_ Fayt observes and wanders what other new places may be in the castle.

.

Albel spots Nel standing with her arms crossed, the tips of her shoes curved like her smirking mouth.

Cliff sits on a stone carved bench, the woman beside him familiar and foreign at once.

She holds a tea cup in her hand, soft blue hair longer than he remembers.

She wears a navy trench coat, dark brown tights, and fingerless black gloves. Her eyes sparkle like a calm blue ocean.

.

"Albel!" The blue haired woman nods as he approaches. "It's been awhile."

.

"Maria." His response is uninviting, masking his curiosity. She seems to have changed the most. He glances at Nel coolly. "_Scarlet_."

.

"_Wicked_." Nel imitates his emotionless voice, low and growling. Maria and Cliff burst in a fit of giggles.

Annoyed, Albel takes a seat on an empty bench across from the others.

.

"It's so good to finally see you!" Sophia punches Fayt's arm lightly and pulls away to inspect him. "Looks like you lost weight."

.

"No!" He retorts, frowning.

.

"I need to fatten you up." She laughs, hugging him again.

.

"It's too bad we don't get to meet up more often," comments Fayt.

.

"Yeah." Sophia agrees, planning to ask a question. She closes her mouth and rethinks her decision. Grabbing his hand, she interlaces their fingers.

"Come on, the others are waiting!" They stroll towards the garden. Fayt greets Nel and Maria with a hug.

Cliff claps him on the back, almost knocking him over.

.

"Say, where's Adray, Peppita, and Roger?" Fayt questions, head tilted to the side.

.

"Adray is away overseas and Peppita couldn't make it. She's touring with her family troupe. Their show has become pretty popular."

Sophia answers, rocking back and forth on her heels, hands clasped behind her.

.

"Oh yeah? That's great to hear." Fayt smiles fondly.

He wasn't able to see Peppita's first show but heard her performances were successful. He is proud of her.

.

"Roger didn't want to come." Maria huffs, her hand underneath her chin. "He didn't give me a straight answer as to why but I think he was upset."

.

"Upset?" Fayt is skeptical.

.

"Yeah. I told him Peppita couldn't make it and he backed out. I think he misses her." Maria trails off.

.

Fayt raises an eyebrow, notices the sad smile on her lips, and thinks she knows more than she says.

.

"Ok, I guess I can always pester Roger later." Fayt smirks, hoping the boy doesn't break his communicator for the fifth time.

Cliff catches on to his idea quickly. They have a periodic habit in prank calling the boy.

.

"So, how have you been Fayt?" Nel asks politely. They all sit and reminisce for a few hours.

Nel continues to serve under the queen's command in the Secret Legion. She has been engrossed in settling minor disputes in the city.

Sophia returned to college and shares an apartment with a few friends from her classes.

Maria settled into a communications job on Earth, backing away from politics and the military.

Cliff, on the other hand, is completely entangled with politics since he is now a delegate for Klaus IV.

Everyone is surprised to learn he finally gathered the balls to ask Mirage to marry him.

She punched him in the face as her answer.

.

"What, why?" Fayt asks, mystified.

.

"Well." Cliff chuckles and rubs the back of his head. "She was mad it took me so long to ask."

Sophia hugs him in congratulations, asking about wedding dates and bride's maid dresses.

.

Albel is silent throughout the whole exchange, fading in and out of conversation as he gazes at the sky, his claw on the hilt of his sword.

Even though he never became close with Roger, he begrudgingly is jealous of his decision to not come.

Does it matter? Roger has friends at home while Albel doesn't have much of anyone except-

.

He tilts his head to glimpse at Fayt, laughing along to Cliff's joke. Nel's shoulders slump, commenting on the joke's lack of humor.

Albel's lips frown at the sight of Fayt's smile and wonders if it's fake.

.

"Rainbows." Maria says the first random thought that pops in her mind, her voice loud and serious, startling Albel from his thoughts.

She stands in front of him, bent forward, hands on her hips, a mere few inches away from his face.

.

"Rainbows?" Albel is annoyed by the sudden intrusion of his personal space. When had she got there?

.

"Rainbows." Maria nods solemnly, confirming nothing. A few moments pass and Cliff bursts into hearty laughter.

Fayt and Sophia follow as Nel chuckles quietly. Maria walks off, returning to her seat next to Cliff, satisfied.

.

"What is this about rainbows, maggot?" Albel snaps, his sneer ineffective against Maria's toothy grin.

.

"We wondered if you can _bend_ like one." Cliff states sarcastically.

Maria almost chokes on her tea, snorting at the double meaning.

Albel shoots a death glare at them all.

.

"We just wanted to get your attention." Fayt smiles sheepishly in apology.

.

"Yeah, rainbow boy." Cliff responds, stretching his arms towards the sky.

"_Someone_ here was pouting at us since you weren't being included in the conversation.

Although, that's no fault of mine." Fayt fixes a scowl towards Cliff, who shrugs it off.

.

"_Rainbow_ boy?" Albel tightens his grip on the Crimson Scourge.

.

"Um, _yeah_." Everyone glances at Fayt giving Cliff a warning look. He asks, "Nel, you said the queen wanted to see us?"

.

"Yes." Nel coughs, smirking towards Albel. _Rainbow boy?_

"Since you will be here for awhile, she set up accommodations for you as special guests. She is eager to see you all again." Nel explains.

"We should probably head to the main guard at the side entrance to the castle now. He is waiting for us there to meet her majesty."

.

~o~

.

Fayt is on the floor in the audience chamber, surprise plastered on his face. A young girl sits on his stomach, smiling excitedly.

She wears a green short sleeved, one piece suit with a pair of brown shorts. "Peppita?"

.

"You haven't come to any of my shows yet!" Peppita punches Fayt's stomach. Nel coughs in embarrassment.

She is relieved to see her queen has left the audience chamber in preparation for dinner.

"You didn't think I wouldn't come, did you?"

.

"How _did _you get here?" Cliff asks in perplexity.

.

"My uncle dropped me off after my last show. I wanted to surprise everyone!" Peppita laughs.

She gives Fayt a kiss on the cheek before she removes herself. He sits up, palms pressed to the floor.

.

"You always know how to make an entrance." Fayt extends his arms, accepting Peppita's hug. Sophia _awe's_ at the scene while Albel growls in annoyance.

She releases her grip, allowing Fayt to stand. She bounces, the bells on her shoes chiming.

.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen any of your performances yet. I will soon," says Fayt.

.

"You promise?" Peppita stretches her arm forward and Fayt interlocks their pinky fingers together.

.

"Promise. I'm your first fan, remember?" He questions and she nods ecstatically.

.

"Ok!" Peppita pipes up. "It's been _way_ too long!"

Cliff happily bends over to accept a kiss on the cheek and lifts her off the floor. She's too cute to refuse a hug.

.

Then Peppita stands before Albel, shuffling her feet as he hasn't acknowledged her presence yet.

.

Surely the girl isn't expecting-

.

"Hey!" Albel shouts indigently, arms pinned behind his back by Cliff, who grins wickedly.

He forces Albel to bend forward while he still has the chance. Peppita cheers and pecks his nose.

She quickly scampers away, Albel bursting out of Cliff's grasp, chasing after her.

She hides behind Fayt, kneeling and peeking between his legs, her eyes glowing with mischief.

Fayt crosses his arms smugly, a delicate eyebrow lifted.

.

"Hand. Her. Over." Albel barks acidly. Fayt remains silent. "Do you wish to have an early _death_, maggot?"

.

"I thought the kiss was cute." Fayt states innocently.

.

"My dignity is in question, fool." Albel hisses.

.

"It's not like you combusted into flames. It was a kiss, relax." Fayt uncrosses his arms.

"And I thought the sight of rainbows would make you stark crazy, _rainbow boy_."

.

Albel twists and glares at Sophia, who tries to hold in her laughter.

.

That hideous name is going to stick, isn't it?

.

~o~

.

Albel pushes salted veal around his plate with a fork, sitting at a dining table able to fit twenty guests.

His eyes slide to the Queen of Aquaria, seated at the head of the table, prim and proper in her gilded gold chair.

Her white robes pool around her feet, her hair tucked neatly behind her ears.

.

Albel has never been fond of the queen.

His dislike of her holds firm when she refused certain trading rights that would improve the economy of Airyglyph after the war.

.

He felt it better to sit as far away from her as possible before he sticks his sword down her throat.

.

The queen holds a silver goblet carefully in her hand as she converses with Fayt, who sits to her right, Nel on her left.

.

Albel finds himself glaring at his plate. Why did the cooks place so much food on it? What about these potatoes? He can't eat _that_.

Do they know of his _hatred_ for potatoes? He was forced to eat the blasted things as punishment by his caretaker when he was young.

He uses his fork to smash into the dreaded things.

.

Lifting the utensil, he swears the mush shapes into an evil face, laughing at him.

.

Peppita sits between Sophia and Albel, enjoying the occasion. She cautiously glances at him as he glares heatedly at his plate.

.

"You don't like what you have?" Peppita inquires, hands in her lap.

She ate everything off her plate, not wanting to seem rude to the queen by consuming nothing at all.

Albel sits his elbow on the table, propping his head in his hand. Screw table manners. "I guess not. Everyone has different tastes." She offers.

.

Albel refuses to talk to a little girl. If he ignores her hard enough, maybe she will leave him alone.

.

"You know." She continues, her head moving slowly from side to side.

"You don't have to act so tough all the time. You chase the people you care about away like that."

Albel finally acknowledges and stares at her with a skeptical red eye.

.

"What makes you _all knowing_, brat?"

.

"You're here." Peppita glances around the table.

"You obviously don't like to be, but you are for the sake of us, right? You could've left ages ago." She grins.

"Nothing's holding you back, so go." She shifts her seat, giving him extra room to get up and leave.

He stares at her critically, his eyes lingering on Fayt before they return to his plate.

He grabs his cup and drinks, red wine burning his throat pleasantly. Peppita sips her water, feeling her point proven.

.

~o~

.

The floor in Fayt's bedroom is covered in blue carpeting, trimmed gold at the edges, the walls a soft white.

Opulent blue curtains tumble from the unmasked windows to the floor.

A wooden desk sits in front of the bed with an ink blotter, quill, and a stack of paper on its surface, a bookcase situated behind it.

Fayt is unable to read the titles of the books, due to the difference in the Elicoorian and English language. He really needs to learn how to speak it.

.

He turns and watches Sophia gaze at him from her place on his bed, her shoes kicked aside, and her hair in a low ponytail.

.

"So, how do you like it?" Sophia inquires while her stomach presses against the mattress.

.

"It's nice." He mutters, gazing lazily out the window.

.

"I think everyone's room looks like this, probably in different colors. My room is red." Sophia answers, sitting up and crossing her legs.

"The beds are pretty comfy, not like those hard springy ones back at home when you check into a hotel."

.

"True." Fayt hoists his bag onto the desk.

He sifts through his extra sets of clothes and belongings, situating them in their respective places around the room.

.

A piece of paper falls out of the bag without his noticing. Sophia crawls over and snatches it.

Her eyes widen. It is a picture of Fayt, his parents, and herself.

.

Sophia waved to the camera and Fayt's mother held a straw hat to her chest.

It was taken during a Japanese festival on Earth a few years ago.

.

"Oh…" Sophia whispers, smelling caramel popcorn and hearing faded fireworks in her ears.

Her fingers press against the crinkled and torn edges of the photo.

Fayt stares at the picture, frowns, and continues to put his belongings away.

.

"I didn't know you had this."

.

"Yeah." He whispers, closing the dresser drawer with a _thud_.

.

Her finger traces over Fayt's father, remembering how he died for a greater cause.

Elicoor II isn't the best place to move on from the war, is it?

She lets go of the picture, watching it fall into her lap, a wrinkled memory.

.

"Have you heard from your mother?" Sophia asks cautiously. He stills, kneeling on the floor.

.

"No." Fayt answers after a few moments. He stands and pulls the desk chair out.

His mother disappeared during the war. She never made contact with him. Maybe she couldn't find him?

Either way, he can't help but feel abandoned like a part of an apple left uneaten, due to the flesh turning brown.

.

Sitting, he leans his head on his crossed arms, encasing his vision in darkness.

Sophia's eyebrows knit, her ponytail falling over her shoulder as she moves closer to Fayt.

.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have brought it up." Sophia responds, squeezing his shoulder.

He carried the most weight in ending the war, possessing a past corrupted by false promises. He couldn't mourn his father's death properly.

The thought makes her notice the slowness of his breathing, his paling skin, and lanky body.

.

She wonders if his green eyes will turn yellow, then brown like an autumn leaf, dulling of life.

.

"It's ok. I…" He pauses, rubbing his eyes. "I'm dealing with it, I'm fine." He reassures her.

.

"Are you sure? You look really tired. Do you think this is the best place to stay, knowing that…?"

She trails off, not wanting to seem pushy, all the while wanting him to come home with her, away from this place of death.

He pulls away and leans back. The chair creaks like a crooning old woman.

.

"I'm fine." His tone is harder, firm. "I need to be here."

.

"Why?" Sophia pushes herself to the bedside, legs dangling off the edge.

"Why stay? There's nothing here but bad memories."

.

"That's not true!" Fayt snaps to attention. "I have memories I will always cherish from coming here. This world has special significance to me."

He glares at her back, observing the tips of her Symbology tattoo peeking from beneath her tank top.

.

"I'm connected to this place too but you don't see me clinging to it!"

Sophia shouts, surprising herself. "What's so significant here that you can't leave?"

.

"I didn't think you would attack me with this on the first day of your visit."

Fayt answers in avoidance to her question.

.

"I didn't mean for it to come off that way. I'm really worried!"

Sophia tries to convince him, calming down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted."

.

"I'm tired." Fayt responds suddenly, leaning his head against the glass window of the bookcase.

Sophia wants to comfort him but decides to leave instead. She picks up her shoes.

.

"My room is down the hall if you need me." She mutters.

.

A few minutes after Sophia shuts the door, Fayt sinks, his fingers squeaking noisily against the glass.

He gasps, tumbling to the carpet, hands tickling with cold, his arms numb.

.

His heart thunders in his chest-

.

_**Fayt is a little boy, clapping his hands, sitting in the grass with bare feet. **_

_**He watches two girls twirl a rope, decked in red and white checkered dresses.**_

_._

"_**Turn the rope, leap in beat, **_

_**don't you stumble on your feet." **_

_._

_**Sophia jumps with every turn of the rope. Her shoes smack against the dirt, **_

_**her chubby cheeks puffing with mirth, her short pony tail bouncing.**_

_._

"_**Clap your hands as you jump,**_

_**do some tricks just like a dog."**_

_._

_**Fayt shouts to Sophia in encouragement.**_

_**She tries a back flip. There isn't enough momentum. The rope trips her hands.**_

_._

"_**Break your neck, scream like heck."**_

_._

_**The rope drops and the girls giggle. They scamper off, holding hands painted red.**_

_**Fayt is still clapping, unfazed by the still body.**_

_._

"_**No one helps till mom gets back."**_

.


	5. IV

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**IV**

.

_**Fayt is a little kid again, sitting on a carpeted floor surrounded by broken toys. **_

_**His hands hold a doll with blue yarn hair and green button eyes. **_

_**It is cream skinned, attired in a white shirt with uneven stitches and brown pants. **_

_**He takes the doll in both hands and pulls.**_

.

_**The fabric screams as the head tears. The body tumbles to the floor, along with cotton, **_

_**along with loose thread, along with a tiny heart, pulsating and staining the carpet red.**_

.

~o~

.

The next two days were filled with Peppita dragging Fayt into a flower shop, a bakery, and a toy store.

Maria and Nel tagged along, keeping their laughter as quiet as possible.

Sophia occupied herself by gazing at the shop windows and Cliff worried over her lack of enthusiasm.

Albel stalked behind the group, grumbling every few seconds on how he was forcefully dragged on such pointless trips.

.

"Your Albel the Wicked, a little nobody like me shouldn't have any influence on you." Peppita stuck her tongue out at him.

"You came on your own because you loveeeeee us, rainbow boy!"

.

It took Fayt and Cliff to restrain Albel, whose first priority was to dismember that brat.

.

~o~

.

_**Tick…tick…tick…**_

.

_**It is Fayt's first time seeing a clock in his dream, a relic compared to the digital numbers he is so used to seeing. **_

_**The clock is round, roman numerals circling the face as the hands freeze on twelve o' clock. **_

_**The second face, made of glass, is broken, caked in dust, sitting forgotten on a wooden desk. **_

.

_**Tick…tick…tick…**_

.

~o~

.

Romeria Zin Emurille, the XXVII Queen of Aquaria, drinks tea from a blue porcelain tea cup and picks a cookie off a plate.

She observes the morning diluted with sunlight, situated on the balcony outside the audience chamber.

.

Her advisor, Magistrate Lasselle, stands a few feet away; attired in black robes trimmed gold and gray.

He twists his head when the curtains of the archway shift behind him.

His thick eyebrow rises at the appearance of Maria.

.

"Good morning, your majesty." She greets casually.

.

"You interrupt the queen's breakfast and do not even bow? How rude." Laselle reproaches her.

.

"It is alright." The queen speaks, her lips blue as if frost bitten,

voice soft like a caressing breeze. "There is no need for formalities."

.

"But my queen-"

.

"I take no offense." The queen states, eyes solemn. Even though Maria gave up her position as a leader,

the queen still sees her as an equal, having once held the power large enough to sway groups of people.

Maria knows what it is like to be depended on. "It is I who should bow to a hero."

.

"No need for that." Maria perks, placing her arms behind her back and strolling past the still steaming Lasselle.

.

"Please give us a few moments in private." The queen asks the magistrate.

He _tsks_ and stalks off the balcony, positioning himself outside the door.

"Do not mind him; he has always been one for tradition."

.

"I can see that." Maria says, seating herself on the stone rail, legs dangling over the edge.

She tilts her head back to gaze at the queen, who sits comfortably in a high back wicker chair woven from wood.

.

"I'm surprised you know." Maria swings her legs back and forth.

"That you would allow us to stay here, seeing as you were quite eager to be rid of us

for invading your homeland when the Vendeeni came."

.

"In a way I still am." The queen admits, placing her cup back on the table. She folds her hands in her lap.

"Your people taint planets with your machines and magic and disrupt the flow of development. My home is no exception."

The queen pauses, her voice taking a hard edge. "I do not want my people to grow overly curious of things they cannot fathom.

Unchecked curiosity can lead to things far greater than petty arguments when questions are left unanswered."

The queen shifts her gaze to Maria. "I wished to have nothing more to do with you,

but I realized you and your friends have left a mark on this planet I cannot pretend is nonexistent.

You saved our world as well as many others. Such bravery cannot be ignored by personal feelings.

It is this that has made me tolerant of your presence."

The queen raises an eyebrow at Maria's sudden laughter,

her head bent back, and mouth open as if to drink in sunlight.

.

"Forgive me." Maria quiets, placing a hand over her lips.

"I knew Nel was talking a load of bull when she said you were eager to see us and even accommodate us as guests.

It's nice that you're being so frank with me."

.

"I am glad you take no ill will at my words." The queen closes her eyes, bowing momentarily.

"However, you _are_ guests at this castle. I would be foolish to not see it any other way.

Such heroism needs to be recognized by those who know of it."

.

"True, a lot of heroes don't get the rewards they deserve." Maria agrees,

thinking of her small life with a desk job and apartment back on Earth, mundane and quiet, perfectly safe.

"Politicians make it worse, trying to get in your good graces when you're a hero."

.

"Heroes are tools of war, abused and neglected at the same time."

The queen adds as Maria shifts her position, now leaning against the rail, her arms crossed.

.

"Even if we are from different worlds, we still fall into the same patterns of deceptive methods, eh?"

Maria replies, stealing a cookie from the plate.

"It's hard to keep your hands clean and come out of anything sane."

.

"Which is why I warn you now." The queen stands, calculating eyes searching Maria's own.

"The powers you do possess troubles me, especially when it comes to Fayt Leingod."

Maria's expression sobers at the thought of Fayt, once outwardly fierce now quietly letting life pass him by.

.

Hiding on an underdeveloped planet seems like a way to avoid and invite trouble at once.

Fayt is able to steer away from the prodding questions of officials,

whom have already knocked on Maria's door, asking for her assistance as she refused to divulge the whereabouts of Sophia and Fayt.

They invited her to the military, offered her a special rank, dangling opportunity like a Christmas present to a child.

She scoffs at the thought. Fayt has to be careful. He deserves a quiet life.

.

Their enhanced genes have been nothing but trouble for them.

A part of Maria still carries a piece of resentment of what she is,

of this power she was given, no matter how helpful it had been in saving others.

Her life was discarded for a greater cause and it bothers her.

Now that all the researchers apart of the Moonbase project are dead,

she never will have most of her questions answered. Will that haunt her forever?

.

"I am informed that he has taken residence here.

I have no objections. It is the least this world can offer him in thanks.

However, make sure he, as well as the rest of you, behave yourselves.

I do not wish to find myself pitted against heroes." The queen warns.

.

~o~

.

**Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.**

.

The sound beats loudly as if a moth stuck in Fayt's ears, wings flapping, trying to get out.

The discomfort makes him stay up all night.

.

~o~

.

Peppita tugs at Sophia's shirt, pouting as she fights the desire to stomp her foot on the marble.

A private dining area has been set up for them, fitted with a narrow polished wooden table with white cushions placed on arm chairs.

Soft cream lights line the stone walls. Behind the head of the table is a large window, permitting a view of the inner garden below.

It is also where Albel sits, away from the blabbering female maggots, concentrating on his plate of grapes and eggs.

.

"Come on; let's check out the market opening today! Have a little fun."

Peppita demands, attempting to drag Sophia to the door.

The brunette has been sulking ever since Fayt arrived at the castle.

.

Sophia sighs, trying to think of a good excuse not to go.

She has been worried about Fayt since their discussion a few nights ago. She wants to make sure he is ok.

.

"Doesn't sound like a bad plan." Cliff intrudes, strolling through the doorway to stare mischievously at the girls.

.

"Yes!" Peppita cheers, pumping a fist in the air. "You'll come with us, won't you Cliff?"

.

"Sure, why not? I can't ignore that cute face." Cliff answers, patting her head.

Peppita giggles, sending a devious look Albel's way. He curses under his breath,

stabbing a grape with his claw to appear more menacing.

Peppita's smile only widens.

.

"Do not dare to think I will agree to the obnoxious idea of shopping."

Albel barks, places the grape into his mouth, and walks away. Peppita's shoulders droop.

.

"Aw! Albel wait! It'll be fun! We can even hold hands if you get scared!" Peppita runs after him, arms flailing.

Sophia laughs, finding the little girl's antics refreshing.

Albel always isolates himself from everyone; it is nice to know someone is trying to be his friend.

.

"Why don't you come? There isn't anything better to do at the moment."

Cliff asks, placing a hand on his hip. She turns to face him, pulling at the collar of her shirt.

.

"Well…" Sophia trails off, eyes lowered to the floor. "I guess it wouldn't hurt."

.

"That's the spirit!" Cliff grins, giving a thumbs up. "I don't like to see you sulk all the time."

The statement startles her. "Sophia, you don't hide your emotions very well.

We've only been here for a few days and already something's bugging you. What's up?"

Cliff inquires, pulling up a chair and sitting down. Sophia hesitates while clenching her hands together. "Is it Fayt?"

She gasps involuntarily, confirming Cliff's suspicions. He waits patiently for her to speak.

.

She recounts her last discussion with Fayt, not much of one at all since he shoved her questions away.

.

"I know you're worried about him but you gotta relax. Coddling him will only make things worse. He needs his space."

Cliff concludes. Sophia rubs her face and walks over to the table, sitting down. "This isn't like you."

.

"I know." She answers. Her hands travel to her knees, rubbing them. "I guess I've been so…fed up."

She takes an apple from the fruit bowl to keep her hands busy. "Every time I talk to him, he won't tell me anything.

Sure, we joke around, but I can never get beneath the surface anymore. I don't understand what he's so guarded about."

Cliff hums in curiosity. Fayt has seemed distracted lately. "I want to know he's ok. He's my friend."

Sophia's cheeks redden. Cliff chuckles, knowing what the blush means.

.

"I'm surprised you haven't told him yet." He instigates, wiggling his eyebrows to lighten the mood.

Sophia sputters, face hotter than oil popping off the pan.

.

"It's not like I've had the chance yet." She counters, lids lowering.

She thinks fondly over old memories, of making paper airplanes and throwing them at Fayt's parents while on vacation.

"Plus, it feels like he's been trying to avoid me all together."

.

"_I wonder if he knows."_ Cliff ponders, bending his head back to stare at the ceiling.

He never needed to ask Sophia if she liked Fayt more than just a friend,

it showed in how protective she became of him when they fought together or how attentive she was to his wounds.

It is obvious to anyone who looks hard enough.

.

He had asked Fayt if he felt anything for his childhood friend,

but Fayt never took the matter seriously and never gave him a straight answer. He bites his lip.

.

"Lay off him for awhile. Be his friend and have fun." Cliff places a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it for reassurance.

"He'll tell you when he's ready, just be patient." Sophia nods and rises from her seat.

.

"As much as I'm not a fan of Albel, I think we should find Peppita before she does something silly to him. Let's find Nel too."

Sophia switches topics. Cliff drops the matter without protest.

.

~o~

.

The curtains are drawn, casting the room in dull darkness.

An empty frame, bits of torn fabric and a broken cup lie on the carpet, forgotten and cold.

Fayt's feet and hands dangle over the sides of his bed, face pressed against the blankets.

He hadn't bothered to change completely yesterday and instead opted to kick his shoes off and drop into bed.

.

He lies awake, knowing the sun knocks on his window,

asking to be let in to keep him company, but he doesn't want it. He wishes to be alone.

.

His eyes throb and a terrible headache forms at the back of his head.

In all, the past few days of nightmares have put him in a foul mood.

He shifts his gaze, staring at the trash bin by the dresser where a piece of fabric sits discarded.

.

"There goes another shirt." Fayt mumbles, huffing heavily as he heaves himself up.

His legs dangle over the bed while he observes the mess on the floor, a frown creasing his lips.

"Have to clean that up too…" He walks over to the dresser.

.

_"After all that crap you'd think my body would get used to this."_

Fayt thinks with annoyance as he opens a drawer and sifts through the contents for a fresh shirt.

He yawns; stretching his arms, bones popping as his door suddenly opens.

.

Green irises stare blankly at Albel, who quickly shuts the door behind him, an irritated look on his face.

He mutters what seems like '_wench_' under his breath before realizing just what room he's walked into.

He stares at a shirtless Fayt, arms raised above him, a piece of cloth dangling from his hand.

The bit of light seeping through the sides of the curtain outlines the subtle curves of Fayt's hips.

.

"Albel?" Fayt says dumbly, placing his hands to his sides.

.

"Why do you have the lights off?" Albel questions as a sudden bang hits the door.

Instantly, Albel grabs Fayt's arm, throwing and then pinning him against the wall, blood orange eyes threatening.

Albel is too close, a mere few inches away from Fayt's face, smelling heavily of fruits, maybe grapes.

.

"I am _not _here." Albel hisses low, almost so that Fayt doesn't catch what he says. He is about to answer-

.

"Hey, Fayt!" Said swordsman recognizes Cliff's voice. "We're heading and meeting Nel in town. Wanna come?"

.

"Um…" Fayt trails off. He stares at Albel, trying to gauge his expression in the dark.

His companion's lips are too thin, eyes too large for his sharp and narrow face.

"I'm going to sleep in a little longer. I'll join you guys later."

.

"You sure?" Cliff is hesitant to ask.

.

"Yeah, I'll contact you later." Fayt responds, feeling uncomfortable.

.

_**Tick, tick, tick, tick.**_

.

"Have you seen Albel?" Peppita chimes in. "I want him to come but he disappeared somewhere."

.

"I don't know where he went." Fayt replies calmly.

.

"Aw, ok." Peppita pouts.

.

"We'll see you later then." Sophia says, sounding hopeful.

A few moments of silence pass and Fayt guesses they have left. The room is too quiet for his liking.

.

"Were you hiding from Peppita?" Fayt questions, breaking the spell that has gripped them for the past few minutes.

Albel releases him, snorting as he rubs his shoulder, unmoving from his current position in Fayt's personal space.

.

"The little maggot is insufferable. Nothing seems to frighten her."

.

"So your only option was to hide," replies Fayt.

He would have found the situation amusing, but his bad mood offsets any type of humor.

His back is starting to bother him. "She can be a bit overbearing sometimes."

Fayt scoots away from him, placing the shirt he had been carrying over his head and on to his torso.

He walks back to bed, picks up his communicator, and checks the time.

It's just barely early afternoon. "Now go away, I'm heading back to bed."

.

"What?" Albel gawks, finding the idea of Fayt shooing him away absurd.

.

"I didn't sleep well last night." Fayt plops back on to the mattress, dragging a pillow towards him to cuddle with.

However, a claw grabs the end of the pillow case, causing Fayt to look at Albel, who leans above him.

He turns, his back lying on the blankets to gaze more comfortably at his friend. "I don't care what you do, just let me sleep."

.

"No."

.

"Don't _annoy_ me right now. I'm. _Tired_." Albel tries not to show the surprise he feels when a blue light rims Fayt's rotting green apple eyes,

his voice razor sharp, and his eyebrows furrow. He grabs Albel's wrist to push him away, his hand cold and dry.

.

Images trickle from the touch, freezing Albel in place.

He sees himself _**covered in blood, arms outstretched as if asking for forgiveness. **_

_**Murderer is scratched onto his stomach and his neck. **_

_**Voices scream in his ears and he picks out one to be his father, burning alive and begging for help. **_

Albel lets go of the pillow, fingers dangling in the air with numbness. Fayt's grip is unrelenting.

Fayt sees a _**man on fire, arms and body shaped into a disjointed dragon**_ and is startled by the desperation,

hopelessness, and the overwhelming sense of loss he sees reflected in Albel's eyes.

He has never seen him look so naked of emotion.

.

"What?" Fayt asks, propping himself on his elbows. He shakes Albel but the man does not hear him.

"Albel? Albel!" The blue light forms thin lines like veins across Albel's eyes, pulsating and strong. They grow in number across his arms.

.

Albel's hands begin to tremble. _**His burning father approaches and encases him in fire arms. **_

_**His eyes twitch and he wants to scream. His jaw is wired shut and he convulses instead, **_

_**unable to stop his father's arms from burning him. His skin sizzles, POPS, and melts off his bones, **_

_**the pain excruciating like necks twisting until they snap.**_

.

"Albel!" Fayt shouts, now sitting on his bed in front of the immobile swordsman,

shaking him by the shoulders as the veins continue to spread.

Fayt gasps, startled by what he sees reflected in Albel's eyes; his own irises glowing, illuminating their faces.

Fayt shrinks back and the veins on Albel's body disappear.

.

.

.

After a few minutes, Albel blinks and croaks, gasping for air.

The fire and his father dissipate like smoke.

Fully awake, Fayt slides off the bed to Albel's side, worry flashing across his features.

He is afraid to touch him, staring at his hands in disbelieve. What _was _that?

.

"Albel…?" Fayt asks hesitantly. Said swordsman growls,

hand slowly moving towards the hilt of his sword as he tries to slow his breathing.

.

"Whoa!" Fayt shouts, dodging the Crimson Scourge and slamming into the dresser.

He scrambles away as Albel rushes forward, slashing an empty vase into pieces.

The image of his father is persistent, unwilling to vanish.

.

"Albel, stop!" Fayt yells, throwing himself into the older man. They stumble and struggle for the sword.

Albel hisses loudly, placing his boot on Fayt's stomach and pushing him away roughly.

Fayt falls to the floor, leaning his weight on his hands.

Albel hovers above him, red pepper eyes dark and mellow, and the Crimson Scourge thrust in Fayt's face.

.

"I should slit your throat." Albel states menacingly, unable to chase the dizziness in his head away.

"What the _hell_ did you do to me?"

.

Fayt is at a loss for words and is unsure of what he saw.

He winces, trying not to move as Albel lowers the sword to his neck, its tip poking his skin. "Spit it out, maggot!"

.

"I don't understand what happened!" Fayt shouts. His back burns, stressing his body.

.

"Why did you bring my father here?" Albel counters,

bending forward to grab Fayt's neck with his claw, the sensation of the metal digits icy and uninviting.

How _dare_ Fayt slither into his mind, unleash the pain residing in the coffin buried inside his heart.

Fayt has NO right!

.

"Your father?" Fayt inhales sharply. Albel takes note of him rolling his shoulders in discomfort,

beads of sweat sliding down his face despite the coolness of the room.

Fayt sees _**the burning man again, standing behind Albel with empty eye sockets. **_

_**He walks through his son and kneels in front of him, breathing fire down his throat**_.

Fayt's eyes are frantic, pupils dilate, and he hyperventilates, lungs ablaze.

.

"Fayt!" Albel shouts, the name urgent and unfamiliar on his tongue.

He does not remember having ever said his name before.

He snaps back to attention as the carpet behind Fayt becomes illuminated.

.

Removing his sword, Albel twists him around, his claw forcing Fayt's head to the floor harshly.

Straddling his hips, he raises Fayt's shirt, revealing the tattoo glowing like deadly moonlight, the symbols moving counter clockwise.

Fayt squeezes his eyes shut, hands curling into fists, unable to control himself.

.

Albel is alarmed as a symbol appears on the floor.

He remembers instantly where he has seen the markings before. Objects in the room start floating.

.

Albel thinks to leave Fayt to his inner demons, let whatever secrets he's been hiding eat him alive as revenge.

It is then he remembers his father, sturdy with confidence, a warrior among men,

never known to play dirty while leader of the Dragon Brigade.

It is a trait Albel has prided himself in sharing with his father, no matter how much of a monster he thinks himself to be.

To let some foreign, mystical magic do the dirty work for him is unappealing. Fayt squirms, his face tight with pain.

.

Albel knows he needs to do something quick to calm Fayt down if Aquaria wants to be an existing nation tomorrow.

He places his sword on the carpet, pulling the metal cuff and glove off his human hand, throwing it aside.

The knuckle of his middle finger rests on the tip of the tattoo and slowly glides upward.

The sensation startles Fayt, his eyes snapping open.

.

Albel then drags the back of his hand across Fayt's shoulder blades in a zigzag motion.

He curls his hand into a fist, meeting the skin of Fayt's upper back.

His knuckles massage his spine, slowly moving downward into the dips and hills he feels in the disks of his bone.

.

Fayt begins to calm down, the ministrations soothing his erratic thoughts.

The Symbology circle fades and objects float back to their places.

.

Albel continues, eyes concentrated, his hand uncurling as his anger simmers.

His knuckles travel upward, rubbing into parts of Fayt's spine as if digging holes.

He reaches Fayt's neck, kneading and pricking the skin with his fingers.

.

Fayt sighs at the touch, opening his eyes, seeing the bottom of the door.

.

"Albel?" Fayt's voice croaks, cracked at the strain of his power. Albel hesitates momentarily before continuing.

He bends his index finger, rubbing the knuckle into Fayt's shoulder.

.

"It's a technique for the cold." Albel says.

.

"What?" Fayt whispers, the burning sensation almost gone.

.

"The housing in Airyglyph sometimes does not contain proper heating and people die from the harsh winters.

We developed this technique to rub the numbness of the cold away from our limbs." Albel explains tensely.

Fayt is shocked to hear Albel tell a piece of his culture willingly,

seeing as he never talks about himself at all. The thought sobers him.

.

Fayt places his hands on the floor and Albel takes this as a cue to pull away.

He stands, watching his companion seat himself and lean against the bed, breathing a deep sigh.

.

"That is why you scratch your back," states Albel wearily.

Fayt does not bother to deny it, knowing he is caught. He looks away, feeling suddenly ashamed.

.

"That's part of the reason." Fayt whispers.

.

"What did you do to me?"

.

"I don't know." Fayt rethinks his answer. "It's too much to explain."

.

"You think batting me away will make me any less curious?" Albel grunts, sitting on the bed, his head hurting.

He decides to beat the crap out of his companion at a later time.

.

"Do you care?" Fayt asks humorlessly. He struggles to keep himself study as he lies in bed.

Metal clanks, causing Fayt to twist his head to stare at Albel.

.

"No." Albel pauses. "I don't." He lies. He removes the armor off his shoulders,

the cuff around his neck, and his boots, placing them on the floor.

.

"I guess you won't be leaving me to sleep?" Fayt adds, too tired to object to the added presence on his bed.

.

"Shut up." Albel grumbles and moves his head to watch the pained expression on Fayt's features.

He hears the younger male trying to breathe normally and knows he is quietly struggling.

Albel rolls onto his side, folding his gauntlet arm towards himself, his hand traveling underneath Fayt's shirt.

He lifts a finger, gently gilding it up and down Fayt's back.

.

"Wha-"

.

"Shut _up_." Albel hisses his demand, massaging Fayt's back again.

He likes the roughness of Albel's hand on his skin, imagines its calluses telling stories of different battles.

He draws closer and whispers dangerously, "If you do anything as stupid as that again,

I will personally disembowel you and display your entrails on a pike for all to see.

I do not associate with weaklings."

.

"You don't find me weak?" Fayt mumbles, trying to make light of the situation despite being on the edge of blacking out.

.

Albel stills but does not respond.

.


	6. V

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work **

**V**

.

Fayt's vision is swallowed by the humped backs protruding from the ceiling as if still waves in a stone ocean.

He lies in bed, his shirt riding up his torso, arms spread out, and fingers tracing the cooling warmth of where Albel's body used to be.

.

Albel was already gone when he awoke.

.

Fayt sighs in disappointment and rolls over, occupying the empty space on the other side of the bed.

Strands of hair shadow his eyes and caress his forehead.

.

He wishes Albel was still in bed so he could watch him sleep and make the moment last a little longer.

.

~o~

.

In the inner garden of the castle, Albel bends low, the Crimson Scourge above his head, claw extended in front of him.

He holds the pose, concentrating on the strain in his legs, the stiffness in his fingers.

He shakes the image of burning bodies and glowing green eyes away.

He still doesn't understand the full nature of Fayt's situation.

Everyone who knows Fayt also knows about his powers. Why be so secretive about it now?

.

Thinking of his companion makes his breathing unsteady. He is suddenly sweaty in the cool air.

He refuses to acknowledge what his heart _thinks_ it feels. He has no need for emotions dead to him.

.

Swatting the thought away, his eyes focus on the tree in front of him, lush and vibrant like Aquaria.

The thought makes him momentarily sneer. He has never thought himself jealous of this kingdom,

but is more inclined to think of how its beauty makes the people more stuck up and nice than necessary,

ignorant to the ways of survival while in the embrace of the Holy Mother.

.

He lets the thought envelope him while sliding his foot back,

swinging his sword upward as a glowing line of light zooms off the blade.

It flies towards the tree, ready to slice it in half but a purple disk shatters it into pieces.

.

"I don't think my queen would enjoy a guest destroying property." Nel comments, walking in front of the tree, arms crossed.

Albel rolls his eyes, places his sword into the ground, and leans on it.

.

"I didn't know nature could be claimed as anyone's property." He snaps. She looks at him wearily, disapproving of his tone.

.

"If you want to have a hissy fit with someone." Nel pulls her daggers out of their sheaths, twirling them in her hands.

"You can have it with me. I can use a bit of entertainment since the queen forbids me from duty during my time off."

It's her turn to crouch, a playful smile on her lips.

.

Albel smirks slyly, raising his claw close to his face, the Crimson Scourge gripped tightly.

.

~o~

.

Fayt checks the time on his communicator; it is early evening. He decides to get dressed.

.

~o~

.

Maria twirls her hair in her fingers while standing on a balcony, watching Nel and Albel fight in the garden.

Albel dips low to the ground, avoiding Nel's dagger, which swirls through the air to lodge in a tree behind him.

She jumps, clothes flapping like makeshift wings, flying towards him.

He narrows his eyes as her other dagger slams into his metal gauntlet.

Claw digits spread far apart as they struggle for dominance.

.

"Don't you think you should stop them?" Maria turns to find Cliff staring at her,

mouth open as the question leaves his lips. He has been looking for her.

.

"Why bother." She turns to continue her observing, Cliff settling beside her. Albel spins; leg jutting out to trip Nel.

She cartwheels to save herself from falling completely and Albel swings, putting her on the defensive. "I think they're talking to each other."

.

~o~

.

Fayt strolls down the hall, searching for the whereabouts of his friends.

He does not like the thought of them prodding him with questions if he ignores them for too long.

He turns a corner, hoping he isn't completely lost in the endless corridors.

.

"Oh…" He whispers, suddenly breathless. _This_ corridor looks way too familiar.

He thinks to turn back but his heart pushes him forward, curious about what he will find.

.

~o~

.

"How so?" Cliff can't help but laugh at the comment, finding it somewhat absurd.

.

"They come from kingdoms that oppose one another. Sometimes fighting is the only way to understand each other."

Maria explains, leaning on the rail, resting her chin in her hand.

"I don't know Albel well but from what I can gauge from our travels together,

he needs to talk in as many ways as he possibly can. He holds too much in."

Nel flips over Albel's head, snatching the dagger out of its place stuck in the tree.

She lashes out, the blade slamming into his claw. He grips the dagger with his metal fingers, forcing it down.

.

"So you don't hate him, despite him being an ass for the majority of the time?" Cliff guesses.

.

"I can't really hate someone I don't know well." Maria chuckles and smiles, tucking a few hairs behind her ear.

"Albel may not know it but he's fun to be around. You can never be bored when you're with him."

Maria concludes thoughtfully as she notices blood trickling from Albel's claw to his arm, which still holds on to the dagger.

.

~o~

.

Nel notices the blood also. She pulls her blade away and back flips a safe distance, staring at the drops of scarlet dotting the cobblestone path.

Albel stares at her, gauging her next move.

.

"I think that's enough for now." Nel decides, flipping her blades and sheathing them.

.

"Does the sight of blood make you nauseous Scarlet?"

.

Nel shakes her head. "No Wicked, your hurt. I apologize for the injury."

.

"Don't be so formal with me maggot." Albel sneers, sheathing his sword. "Do you apologize to all your enemies?"

.

"You're not my enemy." Nel replies, folding her arms.

.

~o~

.

The hall is empty, a gaping gray mouth waiting to swallow Fayt.

His steps echo quietly on the marble and he reaches a door, small and wooden compared to the opulence of the castle.

His fingers glide against the grain, remembering the first time he knocked on this door.

.

He places his hand on the knob, queasiness settling in his stomach.

.

~o~

.

Albel doesn't comment. He averts his gaze instead to the water fountain a few feet away.

.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Nel asks, uncrossing her arms, approaching him.

.

"What makes you think I am not your enemy?" He inquires, halting her movement.

.

"We fought on the same side to save this universe, despite our differing reasons for doing so.

We placed the past behind us to ensure a better future for both our countries."

.

"Spew that garbage to your bitch of a queen." Albel bites. Aquarians are _way_ too nice.

Nel tenses, her hands trailing the edges of her weapons.

"I fought to gain a better challenge than what the filth of this world could offer me."

.

"Don't soil the queen's name because you're feeling sour, you dirty mutt." Nel reprimands.

.

"Call me dirty if you like but I'm not as dirty as your methods, you wench!"

.

It is then Cliff and Maria approach, having noticed the situation getting more heated than necessary.

.

"Hey, guys, relax." Cliff waves his arms, trying to be the peace keeper.

.

"If you want to tell someone to shut it, direct your comments to the bitch's dog.

She seems to do well in following commands." Albel retorts.

.

"Cut it out." Maria interrupts, having her fill of fun. "There isn't any reason to snap at her.

She was extending her hand in friendship. No need to swat it away so forcefully."

.

"I don't need such foolishness." Albel laughs. "And I certainly don't need any of _you_."

.

"You're pathetic." Nel states sharply. "You have no sense of honor or shame.

You use your loyalty to your country, to your brigade as an excuse to parade around as a false hero.

How powerful you must feel against the world." Nel lets go of her blades.

"The only person you honor is yourself. The only thing you have is your egoism."

She pushes past them. "_You_ are a disgrace to your father's name."

.

Albel freezes in disbelief, his ears ringing with the screams of his father, of the fire crackling like haughty laughter.

What would she know? _What would she know_?

.

Overwhelmed by memories blinding his actions, Albel lunges after Nel. Surprised, Cliff locks his arms around Albel's shoulders.

.

"What would you know?" Albel shouts, trying to force his way out of Cliff's grip.

"You know _nothing_ of me, you worthless piece of shit!

How **dare** you judge me when you know NOTHING of the pain I have suffered!" Maria is shocked.

She has never seen Albel this hysterical before, thrashing wildly, his voice loud like the roars of a wounded animal.

This uncharacteristic hiccup in his nature is unnerving. "You know NOTHING of what I have put aside for my country!"

A few occupants of the castle come to see the commotion. They stare at Albel the Wicked, breathing heavily and red with anger.

The growing number of people stops him from speaking further and he relaxes.

He pulls away, fist tightening as he stalks off, leaving a bundle of questions trailing behind him.

.

~o~

.

The floor is the same as Fayt remembers it: cream, shiny, and made of marble.

He leaves the door open, not bothering to light the room.

Fayt walks until he stands in front of a bed, empty of blankets.

He imagines a blue haired man there, lying down with a bandage wrapped around his head, eyes sick and shielded behind glasses.

Next to him would be a Sophia look alike, a shawl draped around her shoulders, her eyes filled with worry as she coughed.

They would be holding hands, talking about childhood memories and wishing charms.

.

Fayt sits on the bed, the feel of the mattress making the memory contain more flesh.

Dion and Ameena had been here, happy to see each other.

They were only able to live their long awaited dream of meeting again for a few minutes.

.

He feels at fault for the way they ended, especially when he cracked under the pressure,

his powers out of control and injuring soldiers on both sides of the war. Why was he chosen to be a leader?

.

Fayt wants someone to have a happy ever after when he can't, with his father dead,

the whereabouts of his mother unknown, and his own self doubt eating away at him.

.

Fayt curls into himself like an orange peel curling in the heat of the sun.

He forces himself not to be overwhelmed by the memory. He doesn't need tears for company.

.

~o~

.

Albel slams the door to his room shut, throws the Crimson Scourge on his bed, and punches the bed post repeatedly.

The pain of war,

his childhood,

his father,

his failures

seep from his fist, his knuckles bloody with his hatred for everything he is.

He shouts in frustration, takes a tray off the dresser, and throws it at the door.

He fists his hair, backing away until he hits the wall. Albel sinks and his eyebrows furrow,

feeling embarrassed and pathetic all at once at his current mental state.

.

No one knows the real incident that had cost his father's life.

Rumors say he died during battle with a group who opposed the reformation of Airyglyph XIII.

Albel's care taker, Count Woltar, and Arzei Bohnleid, XIII King of Airyglyph,

had made sure the true nature of Glou Nox's death was made into a fake memory.

However, that fatal event is still fresh in Albel's mind. Even after more than ten years,

he can't shake the guilt of letting his father die.

.

Albel curls into himself like an orange peel curling in the heat of the sun.

He forces himself not to be overwhelmed by the memory. He doesn't need tears for company.

.


	7. VI

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**VI**

.

_**Drawn curtains trap a snarling darkness. It snaps its teeth, growling at thin lines of light attempting to enter the room. **_

_**A pack of shadows scramble into a corner by a bed. They topple upon a slumbering body, dark and weighty like guilt**_.

.

"Excuse me."

.

Fayt shifts his position, facing the wall. A pale hand sits on his shoulder, pushing him gently.

_**The shadows wag their tails, hoping he will chase the light away.**_

.

"Excuse me. Sir?" A woman calls again. Fayt opens his eyes slowly.

He squints and covers his face, waiting for the grogginess to pass. 

_**The shadows hide under the bed, whining.**_

"Fayt Leingod?"

.

He removes his hand to stare at a pair of blue eyes above him, delicate and soft like winter scarves.

.

_**The shadows bark to get his attention. Fayt narrows his eyes, **_

_**twisting his head to peer at the space between the bed and the wall. **_

_**The darkness feels the heat of his gaze and quiets the shadows until they fall silent. **_

.

He knows the face and the voice, gentle and sympathetic.

It is the doctor who had taken care of Dion and Ameena.

.

Fayt is still in the medical room of the castle. He must have fallen asleep.

He looks out the window, the sunlight warming his face.

.

"It's morning." The woman affirms, walking towards the window and releasing the hatch. A breeze saunters through while waving _hello_ lazily.

"I was preparing this room for one of our sick patients. It's the magistrate's advisor. He gets awfully embarrassed when people know he's sick."

She explains, turning around to face him. "Are you feeling well Fayt Leingod? I know it has been awhile. The last time I saw you…"

She trails off, not needing to finish the sentence.

.

Fayt stares at her kindness, naked and unafraid to offer him help.

He remembers a day almost a year ago and her sympathy. He really doesn't want it.

.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be here." He avoids her question and shifts to the bed's edge.

Fayt rolls his shoulders, pushing his chest outward, allowing extra blood to pump through his heart.

.

"I don't mind." She says, watching him rise. "There are extra medical rooms I can use."

.

"No really. It's ok." Fayt reassures, waving his hand dismissively.

.

"This room holds memories for you." She states, gazing at the empty bed.

The doctor remembers limp bodies like apples sagging from a tree near death.

"Guilt and anguish linger here. People leave remnants of themselves wherever they go, like you have."

.

"I should go. I'm not injured anyway." He walks past her, heading towards the open doorway.

.

"You don't have to be physically injured to be considered sick." She calls calmly, folding her hands in front of her.

Fayt halts, his fingers clutching the door frame..

~o~

.

Maria decides not to join the others for breakfast today. She stays in her bedroom instead.

She sits by a wooden paneled window, an antique table with tea set out before her.

She holds her tea cup, inhaling a scent similar to strawberries. She sips and tastes hot water.

Scrunching her eyebrows, she looks at the red liquid in question, before setting the cup down and adding sugar, lots of sugar.

.

Maria glances at the communicator silently ringing. She licks her lips at reading the name, unsure of answering it.

Before the buzzing ends, she quickly picks up the device and answers: "Hello?"

.

"I'm assuming it must be morning there." A voice, cheery as sunflowers, responds.

A small screen appears, revealing a tousled cornflower haired woman.

.

"Mirage. I wasn't expecting your call." Maria says. "And yes, it's morning."

.

"Ah." Mirage laughs. She hadn't been able to visit Elicoor II due to her father being sick.

"I hope I didn't call too early. I was calling Cliff but he didn't answer his communicator."

.

"It's fine. I was already up and Cliff's probably still sleeping knowing him." Maria reassures, drinking her tea, satisfied with the taste.

.

"How is everyone?"

.

"They're fine. Peppita showed up after all. She seems fonder of Albel than I remember, she's done nothing but bug him since she's got here!

Nel and Albel are they're usual bickering selves. I haven't seen Roger or Adray yet." Maria manages a smile.

.

"And Fayt? It's been so long."

.

"He seems fine."

.

"_Seems_?"

.

"I don't know." Maria sits her cup down. "He seems on edge about something. Maybe I'm reading into it wrong."

.

"I hope everything's ok." Mirage frowns, eyes squinting in thought.

.

"Ah." Maria decides to change topics. "Congratulations on your engagement."

.

"Oh. Thanks!" Mirage chirps, knowing the pixels on the screen can't hide the blush creeping on her cheeks. "I thought he would never ask."

.

"We we're all waiting, I guess." Maria's voice loses its luster like a diamond gone dull with mold. She wants to wipe at it, make the diamond shine,

but the grim keeps building up. A dirty diamond can't fake its luster forever.

.

"You'll be there for the wedding, right? There's a lot of details to hammer out but it's taking place here, on Klaus IV. 

I was planning to send an invitation to your house, but you don't seem to receive my other messages." Mirage explains.

.

"Sorry about that. I haven't been home and I recently got my communicator upgraded."

.

"Is it fine if I send it to your communicator?" Mirage suggests.

.

"Sure, no problem." Maria replies, her enthusiasm decreasing.

.

She remembers coming home late from a nine hour work shift and spotting the cluttered inbox.

Usually she ignored the digital brochures and magazine subscriptions, but the blinking red message in the inbox stuck out.

She had kicked her shoes off, leaned on the door, and clicked the flashing message.

It had been a video of Mirage, asking how she was as Cliff goofed off in the background.

He had interrupted his girlfriend, waving his hand wildly for Maria to see.

He asked where she was, said he missed her while placing an arm around Mirage's shoulders.

.

Maria imagines Cliff in a tuxedo, trim and proper, a black shadow standing by the altar.

She imagines Mirage in a white dress, floating down the aisle like a powdered ghost, her hair a mass of curls.

Unreal and difficult to imagine. She briefly wonders how Klausians go about weddings,

if they even have churches and white wedding gowns and five layered cakes with hand piped cream on the fondant.

.

She also wonders where the video message is now after deleting her whole inbox, having them disposed in cyber space.

.

~o~

.

The doctor walks carefully behind Fayt, pressing a hand against his back. "You're tense."

.

"I'm fine." Fayt replies weakly.

.

"Your energy is unsettled, unbalanced. You are everywhere except inside of yourself. Is there something within you fear?"

She asks, her bell flower sleeves brushing against Fayt's shirt. He stills, unsure of how to answer.

"Your heart has pent up energy, afraid to let loose because of this thing you fear."

.

As Fayt turns to face her, her hand glides to his arm, never breaking contact.

"I can help, show you a technique to balance your energy, cope with fear." She waits patiently.

He weighs his options, somewhat intrigued by her perceptiveness. "I may be a doctor, but I am also a healer of inner hurts.

That is our way in Aquaria; we read one's energy and heal what we can, aside from tending to physical wounds." She adds as if reading his questions.

.

Fayt gazes at her calm demeanor. She is humbler than he remembers. He closes the door and takes a chance.

.

She pulls her hand away and walks over to the dresser, where she has set a station of herbs, crushed flowers, and medical supplies.

She opens a cupboard lined with blue wax candles and takes one out.

The doctor sits on the floor; knees tucked beneath her, placing the candle before her.

"Please, sit." She extends her arm, pointing to the empty spot in front of her. Fayt hesitates before taking a seat in the directed area.

Her hand lies next to the candle's base and fire ignites on the wick: the higher her hand rises, the taller the flame.

.

"All healers of Aquaria are required to master and practice a wide range of Runology." The doctor informs.

"Although, our magic is different from those in the elite guard of her majesty.

Our spells are focused on combining plants and matter together for medicinal properties, for physical and mental stability."

.

"Wouldn't matters of the mind be something for a priest to handle?" Fayt cannot help but ask.

.

"A priest deals with spiritual energy only and examines the interaction of spirits with one another.

Healers or doctors, on the other hand, are able to stretch what symbols of magic to practice.

However, this limits our mastery over Runology. Now hush, you talk too much." The doctor responds amusingly. Fayt bows his head in apology.

.

"Relax." She states after a few moments of silence, noticing him fidget. "This requires patience and an open mind."

.

"Sorry."

.

"Focus on the light of this candle." The doctor offers.

.

"I'm surprised. I thought there would be more candles for something like this."

.

"No." She laughs quietly. "It is a meditative practice called Aidan: connecting to the smallness within you."

She notes the question in his eyes. "This room is the flame's world, larger than it in every way, swallowing its small existence.

Be like the flame and connect to something larger than yourself."

.

Fayt listens to her voice; eyes closing as his other senses heighten.

He smells the smoke from the flame, the polish on the floor.

He hears his breathing, quieting like a baby falling asleep.

Invisible spider webs pull at his fingers to stretch them. His toes tingle and his legs cool against the floor.

.

"Sometimes, the world is the flame's enemy." Fayt opens his eyes as the doctor continues.

"See how the wind blows in, trying to snuff the light out? The flame flickers but does not die. It fights to shine.

Know that even if you are small, do not let things larger than you bully you till death. In acknowledging our smallness,

we learn of our weaknesses and strengths. We are able to fight." The doctor pauses.

.

"In that fight to exist, the flame loses its way. The flame becomes smaller in this process, almost burnt out.

Here, the darkness is the shadows made by the flame. The smaller it's light, the bigger the shadows become, the more ready they are to eat it alive.

Think of the shadows in this room as your fears, your weaknesses growing into a festering darkness waiting for you to break. Think of what you are afraid of, Fayt."

.

He concentrates on the loose strands swirling in his mind.

He grabs hold of each one. He is afraid of losing his friends, this new life he's trying to build,

but is afraid of what he is most of all. His breath hitches. His back itches.

.

_**Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.**_

.

Fayt wants to throw up but pushes the bile back down his throat.

.

"Acknowledge your fears and grab hold to a strong thought, a memory or a person who inspires you.

Let that be your light out of the shadows." The doctor instructs.

.

The first thing Fayt wants to think of is his mother,

scolding his child self for throwing firecrackers at Sophia,

or messing up the waffle machine by pouring baking soda onto the steaming iron.

He remembers the ugly straw hat with its red bow she loved to wear, her worn down wicker sandals,

her wrinkled beige pants on her dressing table, the gold stud earrings his father bought for her birthday and yet-

.

Fayt can't remember what his mother actually looks like.

.

_Where is she? Is she ok? Was he a good soon for her? Was? Is she even alive?_

_._

Questions clutter his brain like bees, filling his head and creating too much honey.

The thoughts stick and get tangled. The mess thickens and his back begins to burn.

.

The moment he opens his eyes, the small candle explodes.

The doctor shields her face as wax pieces fly onto her clothes.

.

Fayt places a hand on his chest, trying to control his breathing.

She stares at Fayt, his face drooping sadness as if ready to cry for breaking his mother's favorite dish bowl.

.

_**Behind the doctor, underneath the bed she sits in front of, are the glowing eyes of shadows, **_

_**too many to count, barking at his fears, shredding his weaknesses with sharp teeth.**_

.

Fayt quickly scrambles from the floor and bows in apology.

He rushes out the door; somewhat embarrassed and more worried of how afraid he is.

Not just of himself, but of everything.

.

~o~

.

"I guess it's an off day, eh?" Cliff states absentmindedly, sliding his hand on the table by his empty plate.

Nel is still in a bad mood from yesterday's events. Sophia munches on a salad covered in pink dressing, oblivious to the tense air.

"I wonder what the others are doing. I know Peppita left early to meet Adray. What about Fayt, where did he go?"

Cliff questions out loud, trying to break the silence. "Have you seen-"

.

"No." Nel states firmly. She thinks she should have punched Albel to knock some sense into him.

"I haven't seen Fayt nor Wicked. I wouldn't care to know of their whereabouts."

.

"You don't care about Fayt?" Cliff gasps in mock shock. His hand flies to his chest. Sophia rolls her eyes and chuckles.

.

"That's not what I meant."

.

"You said _their_ though, meaning _both_ of them," explains Cliff.

.

"I meant Wicked, not Fayt," snaps Nel.

.

"So Albel is two people? I mean, no offense but have you _seen_ him?

He's as skinny as the broom stick my mom used to beat me with when I was a kid."

Sophia chokes on a tomato, downs some water, and laughs.

.

"Since when were you abused?" Sophia asks incredulously, pretending horror.

.

"Stop acting like that." Nel demands.

.

"Too late. Damage done. You don't care about Fayt! I'm gonna tell!"

Cliff sticks his tongue out. "I don't think he'll be happy."

.

"Shut up." Nel growls, despite the upward tug of her lips. He lies back in his chair, satisfied.

.

"Took you long enough." A smirk breaks Cliff's face, eyes playful as he stares Nel down, making her somewhat uncomfortable.

.

"Peppita must be rubbing off on you. I do not like that glint in your eye." Nel informs.

.

The door swings open, startling them from their conversation. In walks Fayt, eyes unfocused and worried.

.

"Heyyyy, there you are man!" Cliff brightens, leaving Nel to brood.

Fayt snaps out of his daze, only to be attacked by one of Cliff's bear hugs.

.

"Oh, morning." Fayt mumbles into Cliff's shoulder.

He looks to Sophia and his frown deepens. He has to apologize to her and Albel for his behavior.

His childhood friend smiles and waves in greeting. He forces a smile back.

.

Sophia is elated that he acknowledges her. Does this mean he isn't upset anymore?

.

"Why does it feel like I haven't talked to you in _forever_? Today I am stealing you from everyone else."

Cliff declares with a toothy grin. Sophia protests at the proclamation. Fayt waves to Nel in greeting.

She huffs but nods in return. He tilts his head but decides not to question her mood.

.

"Where are the others?" Fayt asks.

.

"Peppita went to meet Adray and then they're going to go get Roger. They're both staying for dinner.

Maria, I don't know, maybe sleeping. And Albel i-" Cliff immediately stops, his mood dampening like dew in the rain.

.

Nel lifts her head, more uncomfortable than before, feeling unlike herself.

.

"And Albel?" Fayt encourages, searching Cliff's eyes for an answer.

.

"I do not know of his whereabouts." Nel answers for him, not intending to sound annoyed.

.

"Is something wrong?" Sophia questions, putting her fork down. She feels out of the loop.

.

Nel gazes into Fayt's eyes hardening with his resolve.

Its color reminds her of tonic at the pub. She drinks in his stare, feeling somewhat tipsy.

.

"Nel-" Cliff starts.

.

"We had a bit of an argument yesterday." Nel replies.

.

"Huh? What happened?" Fayt inquires.

.

"We sparred, quarreled." Nel doesn't want to go into details. "He was injured, but-"

.

"Injured?" Fayt interrupts, glancing at Cliff. "Is he ok?"

.

"Um…" Cliff trails off, lifting a hand, only to have it fall back to his side.

.

"You don't know? You didn't check?"

.

"As if he would let us." Nel spat, disliking Fayt's accusing tone.

"He made it obviously clear that he wasn't amongst friends. He was acting like a child, screaming and kicking about his father."

.

"Hey, let's settle down. There's no need to argue." Sophia stands from her seat, palms flat on the table.

.

"You shouldn't have brought his father up." Cliff points out, despite Nel's glare.

"What? Family should _never _be brought into any argument. It's a low blow."

.

"_Cliff_." Fayt's tone is sharp and stares at them disbelievingly.

"You should have checked up on him." He says. "_Despite_ his whining."

.

"I won't be kind to someone who acts rudely back." Nel retaliates.

.

"And being angry in return solves anything?" Fayt counters. "You're better than that."

.

"Don't assume to know what I am better at." Nel rises, the chair scraping against the floor.

.

"Then don't assume Albel doesn't want friends!" Fayt shouts. Sophia is surprised by his anger.

.

"He said so himself!" Nel barks in disbelief.

.

"And you believe him, even when he was angry?" Fayt slams a fist on the table.

"Haven't you ever been angry and said things you didn't mean?"

.

"He's always angry." Nel concludes.

.

"No he isn't!" Fayt shouts. "He's…"

.

"Why are you defending him?" Nel yells.

.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" He yells as Cliff places a hand on his shoulder.

"Haven't you ever had your off days? Haven't you ever been there for someone because they needed you to get through the pain?

You assume he wants to be alone…" Fayt's hands clench.

"He…he doesn't want that. If he did, he wouldn't be putting up with Peppita's pranks or anybody's shit!"

Fayt shrugs off Cliff's hand and glares at him for good measure.

"I know Albel isn't easy to handle, he makes things difficult for everyone, even himself.

He's in so much pain. I don't know why, but he is.

He pushes anyone who wants to be his friend away because he's scared of something."

Fayt gazes at the ceiling, then to the door. He lets his hands loosen.

.

"Wait!" Sophia calls after Fayt, who opens the door and leaves the room.

She has never seen him ignore her before. It makes her realize how distant he has become.

She can't reach him and is crestfallen, powerless to get his attention.

.

~o~

.

"Yo! Slow down!" Cliff rushes forward and grabs Fayt's wrist. He tries to pull away, but Cliff forces him around so they are face to face.

He scratches his head, startled by the green glow in Fayt's eyes. "This isn't what I hoped a relaxing vacation would be."

.

"Then leave."

.

"Hey." Cliff's tone firms like an unripe apple, the skin and flesh hard to chew. "Don't be like that."

.

"Why does everyone have to treat Albel that way?" Fayt mumbles irritably.

.

"You have to admit, he is an ass." Cliff says lightly while crossing his arms.

.

"And that gives you a right to be an ass back?" Fayt approaches the taller male, getting into his face.

.

"Albel can defend himself." Cliff replies. "Why _are_ you defending him?"

.

"Am I not allowed to all of a sudden?" Fayt huffs. "I'm his friend."

.

"Yeah?" Cliff is disbelieving, but not because he doesn't find Fayt's answer untruthful.

He doesn't remember a time Fayt has ever stood up for someone with such intensity.

.

"What's with that tone?" Fayt asks, backing out of Cliff's personal space. He waits for an answer, growing impatient. "Well?"

.

"Is there something going on between you and Albel?" Cliff blurts out.

He can't help but notice Fayt talking about the moody swordsman, _a lot_, during their conversations.

Even Fayt looks at Albel differently than Cliff remembers.

.

Fayt sputters and shrinks back, caught off guard by the question, neither confirming nor denying anything.

Cliff thinks the silence says everything but he doesn't want to jump to conclusions.

.

"Are you guys d-"

.

"There isn't anything going on." Fayt interrupts, turning around. His heartbeat quickens in disagreement.

"He just needs someone to look out for him. It's nothing more, really…"

His answer is half baked like bread, soft and doughy. Cliff doesn't miss the tone.

.

"You sure?" Cliff steps forward, placing a hand on his companion's shoulder, weighty and not comforting.

It almost feels like a warning. "If there is anything going on-"

.

"There _isn't_!"

.

"If there _is_." Cliff gives Fayt a pointed look, not in the mood for his words to be trampled on by denial.

"You should talk to Sophia. It isn't fair to her."

.

"Huh?" Fayt is confused. "What does she have to do with this?"

.

"It's not my place to say." Cliff shifts from one foot to the other.

He doesn't expect his suspicions to be true but the way Fayt is acting proves otherwise.

Maybe that's why Fayt has been so jumpy these past few months.

Maybe he doesn't know how to handle his feelings for Albel?

Cliff frowns. He doesn't want to see Sophia with a broken heart.

.

His thoughts are interrupted as Fayt walks away, putting an end to their conversation.

.

"Hey, Fayt!"

.

~o~

.

Sophia closes the dining door silently, unsure of how to process Cliff's words.

She sits back at her place at the table, fiddling with her fork. She doesn't know what to do.

A shadow hovers over her heart like a bruise on an apple, bitter if eaten.

.

~o~

.

Fayt doesn't want to think of Albel as a bad person, he's just unreachable. He needs someone.

.

"_He needs me_." Fayt thinks, his mind flabbergasted by the thought. It's his first time admitting such a thing to himself.

Does Albel really need him?

.


	8. VII

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**VII**

.

Hanging in an intimate corridor of the castle is an oil painting, the dark wooden frame carved with sprites in side profile.

It is of a naked woman, her transparent robes floating like butterfly wings.

Her hand is outstretched, the other pressed firmly against her chest.

The light illuminates her face, hardening the smooth curves of her cheeks.

She walks forward through a cluster of sun kissed clouds, puffy and alive like her eyes, seemingly ready to step out of the painting.

Her hair flutters about her like a mass of waves. She is just herself, a spirit, absent of a crown, a throne, and a staff.

Fayt gazes, wondering if the artist modeled the painting after the queen, the resemblance uncanny.

.

The painting hangs in front of a door, a bedroom door, Albel's bedroom.

Fayt can't help but walk over, hands pressing against the grain of the wood, polished and clean.

He wonders if the painted woman feels as helpless as he does, both of their arms stretching out to Albel, unable to reach him.

.

Hours have passed since Fayt started to seek out his companion. He had searched the courtyard, the training area, and the barracks.

He also checked the unlikely places: The library, sanctuary, throne room, and even went into town to the bars and weapon shops.

He is more exhausted by the thought of Albel missing than his aching feet.

.

Fayt breathes in the scent of wood and oil. He doesn't realize his hand slips to the door knob.

It twists, surprisingly unlocked. He blinks, slips through the opening, and closes the door quietly.

.

His irises drink in darkness, the curtains barring sunlight. Stale musk assaults his nose.

Have the windows ever been opened? He conjures a spell.

A sphere of fire emits from his palm, bright and friendly. The first thing he sees is the bed post. He grabs hold of it.

Foreign flakes cake the post and fall on Fayt's fingers as they glide downward. He quickly pulls away and smells the substance: blood.

.

His calm drains into the pipes of his stomach.

Where is Albel, is he that badly injured from his last fight? He glances around the room. He needs to open the curtains.

.

**Tick. Tick. Tick. **

**He sees the broken clock again, caked in more dust, the hands pointed to one.**

**His powers mewl at the blood. **_**Touch it**_**, it whispers.**

**Tick. Tick. Tic-**

.

Fayt takes a deep breath and locks the image away in the cramped space of his mind.

He has never completely shut a part of himself out of the waking world before.

He likes the calm blanketing his thoughts and thinks to do it more often.

.

Fayt makes his way to the windows when he trips, nearly falling but catching himself on the other side of the bed.

His heartbeat quickens with the almost impact. He turns, shines the flame towards the floor, and nearly gasps.

.

There sits Albel against the bed, his hair covering his embittered face.

His hand and claw lies on his thighs, his legs stretched forward, the tips of his shoes touching the dresser before him.

.

Fayt swallows, weary of the sight, and slowly opens the curtains.

He is surprised to find Albel's hands covered in dry blood. He hurries over with caution, kneeling before him.

.

"Albel?" Fayt hesitantly places a hand on his companion's shoulder. It's absent of armor.

Albel's claw catches his wrist and shoves his hand away.

Fayt is startled by his eyes glowing eerily in the light, two rubies refracting too many emotions.

"Hey. It's me." Fayt whispers. Albel is stripped of his cocky demeanor, his face tight, lips a thin line.

He registers the voice and retracts his claw, dropping to his side like dead weight.

Boldly, Fayt places both hands on Albel's cheeks.

.

"Go away, maggot." Albel mumbles halfheartedly, fighting against Fayt's hands until they are face to face with one another.

Fayt is surprised he is even lasting this long, thinking Albel might slice him to pieces for even touching him.

.

Albel avoids his bewildered gaze and stares at his lips instead.

Maybe that isn't a good place to look either.

.

"_Look_ at me! Are you ok?" He thinks of the night he overheard Fayt's conversation with Cliff and wonders why he cares so much. He isn't worth the effort.

.

Sighing, Fayt's fingers travel to rest on Albel's human hand, all the while stroking his cheek with his thumb.

.

"Your hand." Fayt examines, turning it over. Albel's knuckles are heavily bruised and bloody like mashed tomatoes dyed purple and black, somewhat swollen.

Fayt remembers the blood on the bed post. "Did you do this to yourself?"

.

Albel isn't able to turn away fast enough. Fayt already sees the glowing _guilty _sign in his eyes.

Fayt frowns and glances at the claw. He lifts the appendage, examining where the armor leaves the skin bare, partial cuts poking through.

.

"How long has it been like this?" Fayt tries not to scowl. "This needs to get cleaned before it gets infected."

Reluctantly, he stands, searching for a door identical to the one in his own bedroom.

Finding it, he pushes it open to reveal a washroom, empty of a bathtub.

He notes a basin and a pitcher on a wooden stand with a mirror and towels folded on a shelf.

On the other side of the room is a pipe and handle to pump water through. He is going to need more supplies than this.

.

~o~

.

Fayt returns with an extra bowl filled with bandages, bottles, and slave.

He also carries a pouch of bread, cheese, and grapes. He has a hunch Albel hasn't eaten yet.

He is glad to have avoided the doctor while visiting the medical rooms, still feeling awkward from their previous encounter.

Fayt carefully walks, unnerved Albel is in the exact position he left him in, into the washroom.

He sets up a small medical station, pumps water into a bowl, pulls out a stool from under the table, and drags a desk chair inside.

Satisfied with his work, he throws a towel over his shoulder.

.

"I'm going to fix your hands." Fayt states while kneeling. "Come on." Albel doesn't protest as he is lifted up.

Fayt surveys his body for other injuries. Seeing none, he tugs Albel into the washroom without any struggle, his silence unsettling.

.

~o~

.

Fayt sits on the stool, bent forward with a pair of tweezers to Albel's knuckles, pulling out bits of splinters.

He hadn't noticed the bed post chipped. Albel sits on the chair, watching him work intently.

.

"I think your hand is broken." Fayt observes, the silence bothering him as he pulls another splinter out, discarding it onto a wash cloth.

"I'm going to have to use curative magic to set the bones back in place or else you aren't going to be able to use your hand for a long while."

Fayt explains, sighing as he checks his handiwork, sure that all the splinters have been removed.

"I wouldn't want to see you sulking without your sword." Fayt places lightly, receiving no response.

.

He holds Albel's hand in both of his own delicately. He mutters under his breath.

A green glow surrounds their fingers and seeps into the wounds.

Albel's lids lower while he slows his breathing. He is soundless as the bones in his hand crack and pop into place painfully.

.

Afterwards, Fayt takes disinfectant from the table. He uncorks the bottle and grabs the towel draped over his shoulder.

.

"This might sting." Fayt warns, pressing the cloth gently into Albel's bruised hand.

The liquid bites and licks the wound but Albel doesn't move. His eyes shut behind long lashes.

Fayt takes this time to examine his companion's face. His eyebrows are surprisingly relaxed, thin and dark against his tanned skin.

His shaggy hair offsets the sharp angles of his face, thin mouth, and high cheekbones.

The metal choker around his neck had already been removed, exposing a strong neck and adam's apple.

.

The cloth grows warm between them and Fayt decides to remove it.

He proceeds to clean the excess blood and wraps Albel's hand in gauze.

The brush of skin makes him hazy for a moment.

.

"That should be fine," says Fayt, focusing his attention on Albel's claw.

He can't see the cuts very well, their covered by fabric and metal.

He goes to remove the claw but the digits do not budge.

Fayt examines the armor, realizing all the pieces are connected together.

.

"Albel," pauses Fayt, "I have to take the whole gauntlet off so I can fix your hand."

He attempts to remove the armor but a bandaged hand grabs his wrist.

Albel blinks, his eyes restored to their natural vehemence.

.

"No." He states crisply, staring coolly at Fayt.

.

"I need to clean the cuts on your hand." He snaps. Albel pulls him closer, his eyes warning.

"It can get infected. Do you want that?" He questions, unafraid.

.

"It. Stays. On." Albel whispers sharply, searching Fayt's worried eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

.

"Like what?" Fayt draws closer. "Like _what_?"

He repeats, overwhelmed by those haunted eyes, wanting to spill secrets.

Fayt's fingers work, unbuckling and untying the gauntlet.

This closeness…Albel can't escape it,

the heat from Fayt's body,

the scent of fresh dirt and sugar water on Fayt's skin,

his calloused and gentle hands.

What is this awareness he allows himself to have?

.

After a few minutes, Fayt successfully removes the entirety of the gauntlet, placing the pieces gently on the floor.

He will be sure to take it to a blacksmith to get the dents fixed in the metal.

.

Fayt stares at the glove covering Albel's arm to his fingers.

He also notes a browning of the skin just peeking beneath the fabric. Fayt tugs lightly at the glove in curiosity.

Albel looks away, the action catching Fayt's attention.

.

"What's wrong?" Fayt questions, pulling the fabric down, breath caught painfully in his throat.

.

Browning of the skin is a complete understatement.

.

Fayt is rigid, his fingers slowly trembling. He continues to pull the glove further down,

eyes widening at the sight of burned skin, Albel's left arm noticeably thinner than its counterpart.

Fayt carefully tugs the glove completely off.

.

His scorched and charred fingers are thin and knobby like stems of apples knotting together, absent of fingernails.

The whole appendage seems as if a tree branch, blackened flesh coiling into over grown veins, appearing dry and flaky.

.

The discovery makes Fayt acutely aware of everything; the stillness of the water in the bowl,

the echo of his breath bouncing off the walls, and the shame radiating off of Albel, completely exposed for what he is.

.

"How…how did this happen?" Fayt forces a question, voice tight.

.

"Have you laughed yet?" Albel counters breathlessly.

.

"What?"

.

"Have you LAUGHED yet?" Albel shouts, his voice booming, thunderous. "Satisfied?"

.

Fayt is unsure of what to think but is sure of how he feels: furious.

"Why the hell would you say something like that? This isn't funny." Fayt gestures to the blackened flesh,

trying to quell the urge to get off his stool and smack Albel across the head with it.

"How the _hell_ would something like _this_ be funny?"

.

"Go run off to your useless friends!" Albel sneers, flying from his chair.

Fayt mimics his movement, standing his ground. "They'll get a good kick out of it."

.

"_No_." Fayt narrows his eyes, clenching his hands into fists.

.

"I'm sure you're disgusted." Albel draws out the _s_'s between his teeth, a snake slithering between the syllables.

"You can throw up if you like, I won't be offended."

.

"Stop talking like that." Fayt demands. "You're not disg-"

Albel slams him into a wall, his bandaged hand flat against his chest.

His burnt fingers crawl up Fayt's arm, to his shoulder, to his neck, thin spider legs leaving cold pin pricks as they ascend.

.

"Movement in my arm is limited." Albel says, encasing Fayt's neck in his burnt hand.

Fayt inhales sharply, the texture of the marred flesh like dampened tree bark,

the color blacker than Albel's apparent hatred for the monstrosity he is still connected to.

"I can feel _nothing_ through this hand." He whispers darkly. Fayt smells smoke and charred coal as Albel rests his hand on his cheek.

Fayt opens his mouth, the smell dizzying. "I have been reduced to _nothing_. This is a reminder of my sin."

.

How long has Albel been carrying a suffocating amount of loathing inside him?

How long has he been unable to breathe because of the hate filling his lungs?

Fayt swallows his nausea. His fingers carefully lie against Albel's burnt hand, trying to get use to its texture.

.

"Does this…" Fayt trails off, pressing Albel's hand further into his face.

"Have anything to do with your father?" He pieces the memories together,

of broken dreams and a burning man. "You talk about him a lot in your sleep."

.

"You know nothing of him." Albel states acidly, backing away.

He is caught completely off guard when Fayt quickly wraps his arms around his slim waist, burying his face near his collarbone.

.

"Are you in pain?" Fayt asks sincerely. "Have you always been in pain?"

.

"Knock it off."

.

"What happened to your father? You can tell me."

Fayt doesn't want Albel to suffer with a festering bruise on his heart, killing everything he feels.

.

"Get off me." The words are similar from another moment in time for Albel.

He remembers his father wrapping his foolish teenage self in his arms, protecting him from the flames. "Fuck off, you maggot!"

.

Fayt swings Albel around, the older man's back slapping against the wall.

Fayt gathers his top in his hands, bringing him closer to his face, showing he isn't playing around.

.

"Listen to yourself!" Fayt shouts, eyes ablaze. "How can you think that way? You're important like every other person on this damn planet!"

He shakes Albel, trying to sink some sense into him. "You think you're the only one with problems? Self hate? That's bullshit!"

.

Albel lulls his head to the side, trying not to listen. The words stick out too much like flowers on a grave. "My father is dead…"

.

"You think you're the only one who lost someone? I lost _my_ father, my mother, my life on Earth.

This stupid power I have robbed me of _everything_. I had to start over!"

Fayt's eyes are pink around the edges. There is too much moisture for his eyes to handle.

.

"...because I killed him." Albel's sentence throws Fayt off his rant.

A hushed silence cloaks the room. He removes Fayt's hands from his shirt.

"Not so chatty now, are you?" Albel leans his head against the wall.

.

Fayt breathes heavily, shoulders tense, body locked, ignoring the whispers clawing at the cage in his mind.

He is too angry to let his inner demons over power him in this moment. "How?"

.

Albel's eyes are alight in reminiscent memories.

.

"He burned alive in the dragon's flame." Albel whispers. The image hits harder, weighing him down.

"He thought me worth saving, the stupid old fool." He slides until he hits the floor.

.

"What do you mean?" Fayt stares at him.

.

"I should have burned instead. Although, this seems a more fitting punishment."

Albel raises his burnt arm, fascinated as if seeing it for the first time. "My father rests while I never can. I'm not allowed too."

.

"I don't understand." Fayt is confused.

.

"Too slow to catch up?" Albel's laughs are hollow and crippled. "You will never understand." He stands and heads for the door.

.

"Then make me understand." Fayt holds him back; his head bent low, his anger evaporating. He doesn't want Albel to shut him out.

.

"I don't-" _need you_, Albel chokes, unable to finish his sentence. The thought is off with his emotions.

.

"…It's ok to say it." Fayt mutters, lids lowered. "You don't need me, right?"

.

Usually Albel would lash out and laugh in Fayt's face at his words. He can't feel anything close to cruelty in this moment.

Something in Fayt's tone cracks at his resentment for every little happy memory he has stuffed in a box and forgotten.

Fayt sighs. He sounds dejected and lost to Albel's ears.

.

It is then he realizes he doesn't want Fayt to feel hopeless and defeated.

.

Fayt inhales sharply as a burnt hand rests on the back of his head, pulling him into a strong chest.

.

"Don't put words into my mouth." Albel whispers sharply, unsure of what he is doing.

This is too new to him. They stand like this for a few moments, contemplating each other.

.

"…I still need to clean your hand." Fayt whispers, holding Albel's burnt wrist, holding onto…he doesn't know.

He is sure Albel has killed many people without a second thought, but his father? Did Albel really have the stomach to do that?

Seeing the way Albel is, seeing the guilt on his face, he can't bring himself to believe it.

.

Fayt directs Albel back in his chair and quietly examines the burnt palm. Unfortunately, the cuts on the skin are already infected.

He thinks of a spell to remove it. However, he looks at Albel's disdainful expression.

.

Fayt places his hand on the back of Albel's head, gently leaning their foreheads together.

Albel hasn't given him the whole story. There has to be more.

.

"Don't look like that." Fayt says. "You aren't worth nothing, you aren't disgusting.

You're important to me. I want to help you. Please, let me in."

.

Albel doesn't feel Fayt interlace their fingers together, smooth skin against bark black.

.


	9. VIII

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**VIII**

.

**The clock returns more detailed, smelling of cotton balls dipped in sour milk. **

**The tips of the hands are shaped in crescent moons. The numbers on the cream colored face are rusted. **

**The glass plate is still broken, the clock still caked in dust. His fingers switch the hands back to twelve instead of one. **

**He doesn't know what part of the day it is. He wants to still time, wants the nightmare to last forever.**

.

~o~

.

"Nel Zelpher." The Queen of Aquaria approaches said agent in the hallway, her two knights saluting in greeting.

.

"Your majesty." Nel quickly bows in surprise. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence at this hour?"

.

"You may rise." The queen motions and Nel stands expectantly.

"I know you have an upcoming engagement to attend with our guests but I must speak with you now."

.

"Is something the matter?" Nel's hands reflexively rest on the sheaths of her blades.

.

"This must be discussed in private." The queen states and beckons Nel to follow her.

.

~o~

.

"We're hereee!" Peppita bursts through the doors to the main dining area. Servants carrying trays of food halt their movement to observe her.

A boy has his arm linked in Peppita's as he tries to place a fallen suspender strap back on his shoulder.

.

Maria smiles, her chin in her hand as she waves to the pair. "Roger, you made it."

A lopsided grin appears on his face, hiding how unmanly he feels with Peppita beside him.

She had threatened to beat him with his own axe if he had let go of her arm! What nerve.

.

"You guys gonna stand there all day or move?" A baritone voice booms from the entrance.

In walks Adray, having returned from overseas, his skin darker and his eyes alight with amusement.

Peppita squeaks, hauling Roger towards the table to sit together.

Adray pats Sophia's head and pounds fists with Cliff. Maria gives a polite nod towards Adray.

He then surveys the room while scratching his beard, nodding approvingly at the pig roast sitting at the table.

"How have you guys been holding up?" Adray asks.

.

"We're all good." Cliff smirks. "Now the whole crew's here!"

.

"Nooo!" Peppita pouts, sitting down. "Where's Fayt and Albel?"

.

"I sent someone to their rooms to get them." Nel replies, entering the dining hall.

She and Adray bow respectfully to one other. "Is Clair accompanying you?"

.

"Not today. I'll be meeting with her at the dock tomorrow. You're more than welcome to see me off with her.

I have another assignment across the sea." Adray smiles brightly.

.

"I'd be glad to." Nel hides her smile in her scarf. It has been some time since she last saw Clair.

.

Maria gazes at Roger peering at his empty plate, eyes gloomy while everyone converses. She hides her frown behind her hands.

.

~o~

.

_**He stares at the body on the wooden floor, cold like a rag doll, the skin stretched too thinly across the little girl's face. **_

_**She lies on her stomach, her cheek resting on her crossed arms, her copper hair neatly braided down her back. **_

_**Her brown dress spreads about her like a puddle of spilt chocolate milk. **_

_**He knows she doesn't sleep, even though there is an absence of blood. **_

.

Fayt finds himself irritated by his recent restlessness.

Parts of his body sometimes ache as if he ran too far, breathless and heavy.

He thinks to open the curtains but is sure Albel will grunt at the pointlessness of it, seeing as it is dark outside.

Fayt twists his head, gazing at Albel's closed eyes as they lie on his bed.

Fayt knows he is awake and probably not in the mood for small talk.

.

_Knock, knock, knock. _

.

Fayt involuntarily yawns, sitting up to stare at the door. He ruffles his hair and rubs his eyes.

.

"Sir Albel Nox?" A woman's muffled voice speaks behind the door. It's probably a servant.

.

"What?" Albel bites out loudly, unmoving.

.

"You and Mister Fayt Leingod are requested for dinner in the main dining area. I am to escort you there." The woman replies.

Fayt turns at the sound of raspy chuckling. Albel quickly gets up to sit behind him. His hands sink into the mattress, eyeing the door cockily.

.

"_Sir_?" Albel questions, his breath on Fayt's ear. He shivers involuntarily. "What a joke."

.

"Shut up." Fayt whispers.

.

"Do you know where Mister Leingod is? He does not seem to be in his room." The woman adds, somewhat distressed.

.

"He's probably participating in lewd acts at the bars in town, he seems to fancy himself drunk."

Fayt rolls his eyes. Apparently Albel is back to his usual antics. "Go. I can find my own way around."

.

"Are you sure sir?"

.

"Leave before my sword greets your throat." Albel barks wickedly. The woman gasps and her footfalls fade.

.

Fayt can't help the smirk tugging at his lips while stretching, his white shirt and brown slacks rumbled.

He's been sleeping too much lately, he needs some exercise. Fayt makes his way to the washroom,

gathering medical supplies and cleaning up his earlier mess, ignoring the added presence at the door.

.

Albel allows himself to openly stare. Fayt's hair is a bit longer than usual, the tips just at the base of his neck.

His arms are more defined, having put himself through extra training. In that moment,

Albel realizes how pristine and innocent Fayt appeared that first time he laid eyes on him.

In a sense, Fayt is still innocent but tainted with a wildness that comes from roaming the world,

digging a deeper hole of darkness into his heart. Albel wonders how deep that hole goes.

.

Fayt pushes the drawer closed and from his kneeling position, stares at Albel, red wine eyes smooth to drink in.

.

"Here." Fayt says, offering him a piece of cloth. "You might want to cover it." It is Albel's arm glove. "Shouldn't you bandage it first?"

.

"I don't like the accursed things." Albel answers, snatching the fabric from Fayt's hand. "They itch."

.

"Oh." Fayt answers, watching Albel pull the glove slowly up his charred arm, hiding away his feelings, his identity, and a part of himself.

Unconsciously, Fayt's fingers follow Albel's until they brush.

The Elicoorian stills, watching those fingers grip the fabric and pull the glove all the way to cover burned skin.

"Hopefully the bandages on your hands won't be too annoying to deal with."

.

"Hmph." Albel mumbles as Fayt retrieves his fingerless glove.

Albel is unable to ignore the thunderstorm of emotions building inside him, unused to feeling so intensely for someone not related to his father.

Is it so horrible to show Fayt that he can be normal like everyone else? Being with Fayt is making him soft. When has he started feeling this way anyway?

"_I don't like it."_ He snatches the glove from his companion and tugs it on his hand, careful not to open the wounds.

Fayt fits a thick metal cuff over Albel's wrist. He notices a white scar on the side of Fayt's right hand, roughly an inch long;

starting at the pinky's base, unsure of where it comes from. This interaction is unusually natural, isn't it?

He doesn't like it. He _doesn't_. His hand drawing to Fayt's face says otherwise.

.

Fayt freezes as Albel's fingers trace the scar on his hand, his cheek, his jaw.

His hand cups Fayt's chin lightly, his thumb caressing his bottom lip,

soft like a ripened mango, the skin ready to be peeled off, the flesh ready to be chewed.

.

Fayt is unsure of how to handle Albel's mood swings. However, he closes his eyes and leans into the touch,

savoring the moment. He isn't sure if the gesture is curious or something more.

.

Albel moves closer, leaning in to meet his eyes. "Let's go." He says and pulls away.

.

Fayt reacts; snatching Albel's hand in his and drawing those fingers back to his lips. He closes his eyes and swallows.

"_What am I doing_?" Fayt thinks, his lips remembering the roughness of Albel's fingers. "_He doesn't need this right now. _

_This will be another problem atop all the other things going on. I can't do that to him_."

Albel gazes at him strangely before pulling away, unable to process the moment in his brain.

Fayt tries to keep his intake of breath quiet as Albel walks out of the washroom.

Fayt bites his lips, wanting them to feel bruised with imaginary kisses.

.

~O~

.

Tension and laughter mix in the dining room. Cliff sits next to Maria, eyeing Fayt curiously,

seeing as how he and Albel entered the room together, somber than usual.

Fayt has changed into a sleeveless shirt, the collar open while keeping his pants and boots from earlier.

Fayt forced Albel to leave the Crimson Scourge in the bedroom,

thinking it unnecessary to hack at his food. Albel had defended himself, stating the blade wasn't for the food,

but for the fools who cooked it. If he sees potatoes on his plate again, he will have a fit.

.

Roger and Adray had chased the servants out of the room after they kept putting food in their plates; they wanted to decide what to eat for themselves.

Adray sits at the head of the table, discussing business with Nel to his right as Fayt sits to his left beside Sophia.

.

Sophia watches Fayt laugh and misses his smile. She had been uncomfortable at seeing him and Albel walk in together.

She can't take Cliff's words out of her mind. She doesn't want to assume anything.

.

~O~

.

"Hmm?" He turns to face the brunette, who tugs at his sleeve to get his attention. They stand on the balcony outside the dining area.

She wears the green hoodie he bought her years ago and is surprised she still has it.

"Oh, Sophia. Something wrong?"

.

"Are you still mad at me?" Sophia whispers, her hands clasped behind her back. Fayt sighs,

shaking his head.

.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have gotten so angry." His fingers tap on the rail. "I was tired. I don't want to ruin this vacation for you."

.

"You haven't." Sophia replies, tone hopeful, adding a smile to ease the tension.

"You just don't really talk to me like old times. I know things change, people change, but I miss when you were more open with me.

Sometimes I don't know what to do about it, what to make of you these days. I worry." She explains, pulling at her sleeves.

"I'm just glad you're talking to me, it feels like all everyone's been doing is fighting with each other. I don't like it."

.

"Me either." Fayt feels guilty. He doesn't want to treat his best friend this way, ignoring her and making the problem worse. "I'm not ready to say what's wrong-"

.

"So something _is_ wrong." Sophia interrupts.

.

"I can't say yet." Fayt combs his hair with his fingers. "I'm not sure if I should."

.

"Don't shut me out." He is surprised to find Sophia's arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek on his chest.

She inhales the scent of earth, sword polish, and soap on his clothes. He used to smell like apples and cologne.

.

"I can't make promises." Fayt sighs, hugging her back. He remembers loving how secure and safe her hugs were.

They used to mean so much more but now, that spark inside him simmers, ready to be snuffed out.

His inner demons want to rip the smile off her face. "Let's have fun, ok? I think we all need it."

.

"Yeah." Sophia agrees, taking Fayt's hand and squeezing it. A nervous chuckle emits from his lips.

She lets go when Peppita calls for her and they walk back inside.

He spots Albel taking a long swig, probably wine, from a silver cup, eyeing him.

Fayt can't decipher the emotion reflected in those irises. Albel puts the cup down and tugs at his glove. Fayt frowns, hoping the itching isn't too bad.

What would it be like if they were together? He is scared of letting himself go, afraid of hurting someone if he becomes out of control.

Then again, would Albel even let him in that way? He contemplates the possibility of a-

.

Fayt raises an eyebrow, unable to finish the thought, seeing as it sounds ridiculous.

How will he know if he's never given the thought life and hasn't told Albel anything of what he feels?

.

~O~

.

Flowers and plants blush in the glow of the torches lighting the garden.

The moons of Elicoor hang over head, casting pale light on the stone paths.

Peppita, Fayt, and Sophia are gathered around Adray, who apparently has a talent for guitar.

They clap along to his upbeat tune. Cliff, Maria and Nel watch while talking to each other, drinks in their hands.

Albel rolls his eyes at the sight while sitting cross legged by the pond, staring at his reflection.

.

Maria lifts her gaze, eyebrows knitted, and she excuses herself. She walks over to Roger, who sits on the ground,

hands propping his body up. His eyes are glazed like glass hardening in the light of the fire.

.

"You've been quiet." Maria observes, lowering to sit beside him. She watches Adray drag Fayt over to him, placing the guitar in his hands.

Sophia eggs them on, encouraging Fayt to try and play.

.

"So?" Roger pouts, trying to sound in more hold of his emotions than he really is. Maria shrugs her shoulders, examining her boots.

.

"You're never quiet." Maria points out, smiling. "Something's bothering you. Is it because…"

She trails off, knowing she treads on sensitive ground. Roger may want people to believe he's a man, able to take on anything,

able to have the strength to protect people, but he still is a 13-year-old boy, chasing dreams and building forts.

.

Roger fiddles with the suspenders of his pants. He doesn't want to appear weak.

.

"It's ok to talk about it." Maria offers. "Talking is always good."

.

"I don't know what to say." Roger is crestfallen. "Should I say anything?"

.

"It's ok not knowing what to do." Maria replies. "When we block out something, when we try to forget,

we usually lose the words we want to say when we try to remember again." Maria draws in her knees and wraps her arms around her legs.

She has tried to block out her feelings and her life. How long can she run until she explodes? She gazes at Roger and doesn't like to see him sad, he is just a kid.

.

"Will you come with me?" Roger asks tentatively, wiggling his nose as if about to sneeze. "You know, what I mentioned when I talked to you before."

.

"_Oh_, are you sure? Do you want the others to come?"

.

"I didn't want to do it with my tribe but its tradition." He bites his lip.

.

"I'll come." Maria soothes. "You don't have to be alone when you do it. We're all here to support you."

.

"Ok." Roger says, feeling somewhat better. "I'll think about the others coming."

He glances at Peppita, who has stolen the guitar. Cliff covers his ears, mocking horror at her playing.

The girl sticks her tongue out and strums the strings harder. Adray snatches the instrument away, afraid of it being damaged.

.

~O~

.

"What's up with him?" Adray asks Fayt gruffly, pointing at Albel brooding by the pond.

He shrugs, feigning ignorance. "He needs to get drunk, loosen up a little."

.

Fayt sputters at the thought of Albel drunk, comical and scary at the same time, his speech slurred and his feet uncoordinated.

Adray laughs, the same absurd idea forming in his mind.

.

"So Fayt, how have you been settling in?" The bulky man asks.

.

"It's beautiful here." Fayt answers, staring at Peppita falling asleep on Cliff's shoulder as they sit on the bench.

He has an arm wrapped protectively around her. Roger is tempted to pull a prank to wake the girl but Cliff gazes at him wearily.

Sophia talks to Maria and Nel. "And very different from where I'm from."

.

"How so?"

.

"Everything moves fast." Fayt clarifies. "We give ourselves a lot of standards, a lot of goals to reach.

It's nice that things are slower here. I got so busy with work back on Earth; I forgot how it's like to just enjoy life."

.

"We all have our obligations but we should never lose touch with life." Adray adds, nodding his head sagely.

Fayt nods in agreement. "So go to him, make him remember what it's like to have fun."

.

"Huh?" Fayt is caught off guard by the random comment. Adray shifts his head towards Albel.

.

"You keep looking at him, so go to him. He's too uptight anyway." Adray smirks at Fayt's wide eyes.

"You think I didn't notice during dinner? I am an observant man, my friend. I do not judge your preferences either."

Fayt's eyes widen further, feeling uncomfortable with the topic. "You know your silence is proving me right?"

.

"What am I supposed to say to _that_?" Fayt asks, flustered.

.

"The truth." Adray replies, looking at Fayt as if he is crazy. "What else should there be?"

The swordsman thinks on this, not realizing the older man creeps away.

.

"Hey!" Fayt pouts. "Come back here!"

.

"I wanted you to marry my daughter." Adray admits, an evil smirk on his lips. Fayt isn't sure how much wider his eyes can get.

"But it seems your feelings lie elsewhere. The idea was in my mind ever since our past travels together. Clair is of marrying age you know."

Adray crosses his arms. "You're kind but firm. Strong when you need to be, you don't put on airs. You are yourself." He says thoughtfully.

"I didn't know if you had someone waiting for you back home or if you had something going on already."

He sneaks a knowing glance towards Sophia. "I love my daughter and want her to find the right man.

Thinking of Clair reminds me of my wife. Bless her soul." Adray makes the sign of the Holy Mother, looking towards the sky.

"She was gentle, a good mother, and a great warrior. We married for love." He looks at Fayt.

"I may not seem like it but I hold such ideals to a high standard.

A commitment to the one you cherish most is very important, builds a strong foundation."

He claps Fayt on the back. "Look at me, an old man gone sentimental. I miss my wife but I'm happy with the life I live now.

Clair is all I have as well as my honor to the queen. Having a person to protect makes me strong."

He pulls away. "What do you fight for Fayt? Is there anyone you want to protect?"

.

Fayt is at a loss for words. Feelings bubble and burst in his heart, unable to take shape.

He looks at his friends, his hands, and his eyes shift towards Albel, who plays with the fabric of his glove.

.

"Right." Adray nods, breaking the silence between them. "Go run along now, I'll make sure the kids are put to bed."

.

"Um, wait a minute." Fayt replies meekly.

.

"Good night." Adray says offhandedly, walking towards Sophia and Cliff, shooing Roger inside the castle.

Fayt's shoulders slump. He turns to stare at his companion. They have been alone before, plenty of times for most of the year but this feels different.

.

Albel notices a shadow cast on him and bends his head back to stare at Fayt upside down.

He _tsks_ and places metal digits on his knee. Fayt sits beside him, facing the others while Albel faces the darkness of the garden.

.

With all that has happened, Fayt thinks he understands Albel a little better.

.

"I meant what I said earlier." Fayt says, his arms crossed in front of his knees.

Albel tilts his head away, his finger idly playing with one of his hair tails, mouth parted as if to sigh. "I do want to help. I want to understand."

.

Albel does not make the effort to answer, too tired by the whole thing all together. He doesn't want to talk about it.

.

"I won't bug you." Fayt laughs quietly. "But I'll be waiting when you're ready." He is fine with silence.

Fayt thinks they have exhausted too many words today anyway. His back starts too itch and he rubs his shoulders.

.

"It's bothering you again, isn't it?" Albel questions, his voice edgy. Fayt does not confirm but rolls his shoulders instead.

"I can just look at you and know you are too tense. Stay that way and it will get worse."

.

"I don't like dealing with it." Fayt admits, unzipping his shirt a bit as if getting too hot.

.

"Don't answer me like a child." Albel whispers darkly. "Seeing it once is enough to know you are caging a monster."

Fayt bites his bottom lip, too tired by the whole thing all together. He doesn't want to talk about it.

.

"What do you think I should do?" Fayt questions. "I don't want this power. I don't know what to do with it."

.

"Don't be a coward."

.

"I didn't ask for this." Fayt snaps in frustration, letting the cool breeze simmer his anxiety.

.

"I didn't ask for _this_." Albel holds up his claw, a sharp contrast against the hazy blackness of night.

"I didn't ask to live." He mutters, standing up and flexing his metal digits. "Make your excuses and cry in your corner.

You have an untrained animal inside you. Leave the lock undone and that beast will rip everything you are, everything you have apart."

Fayt doesn't like the knowing tone in his friend's voice as if he has experienced it himself. Nel and Cliff give Albel weary looks as he heads inside the castle.

.

"Everything ok man?" Cliff approaches while cracking his knuckles, Nel behind him. Fayt smiles, arms lax at his sides.

.

"Yeah, just Albel being Albel. No big deal." Fayt responds. "I'm going to bed."

.

"Good night Fayt." Nel says, watching him walk back into the castle, staring worriedly after him. "Do you think he's alright?"

.

"No." Cliff replies. "I need to get to the bottom of this."

.

"What do you mean?" Nel prods.

.

"Something doesn't seem right." Cliff keeps the entirety of his thoughts to himself. "Just a hunch."

.

"You and your hunches." Nel sighs exasperatingly. "I'll look after him as well if that will ease your worries."

.

"Thanks." Cliff smiles, rubbing his head. "I guess we should call it a night."

.

"Yes." Nel agrees, watching him wave Sophia over, asking if she wants to walk to their rooms together.

Nel takes one of her daggers in her hand, examining the design etched into the hilt.

Her thin eyebrows crease and she thinks of the queen, troubled by their earlier conversation. She hopes the queen is wrong.

.


	10. IX

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**IX**

.

**Loaves of bread are stale and moldy. The floor is covered in flour, the glass on the counter broken.**

**Feet walk, crunching shards. Is he moving? He can't feel anything. **

**He lifts a loaf off the floor, thinking the gooey substance on it is jam. He raises it to his mouth-**

.

-and tastes blood.

.

~o~

.

"Come back safely," says Nel, a faint smile on her lips as Adray waves dismissively.

.

"Ah, this mission to Gaitt is no big deal. I'll be back before you know it." He puffs out his chest. "Now where's that-"

.

"Father!"

.

"You're late." Adray scolds Clair, who stops running and huffs breathlessly, her cheeks puffy.

.

"I was in a string of meetings I couldn't get out of." She explains, noting his pouting face.

"I made it in time, didn't I?" She gives him a hug. Adray grins, lifting Clair as to twirl her around in his arms.

"Please, that's quite enough!" She shouts. He laughs and places her back on the ground. "How embarrassing."

.

"Never be embarrassed of your father!" Adray yells in mock anger, shaking a finger her way.

.

"Pointing a finger is rude." Clair deadpans.

.

"You're being mean." Adray complains, gazing at Nel for assistance.

She quirks an eyebrow, refusing to get in between them. How could these two be amongst the strongest warriors in Aquios?

.

She watches them; the embrace they share this time warmhearted and gentle.

They have never been secret about their affections for one another; despite the falling out they had a few years ago.

Nel is pleased to see them working on their relationship. The thought makes her smirk beneath her scarf.

.

"Well, I've gotta go now." Adray pulls away, staring at the docks behind him.

"You behave yourself. I don't want to find out your being tossed in the sheets by some loser I haven't approved off."

.

He falls to the cobblestones, clutching his head where Clair had just punched him. Her face twitches while standing by Nel's side, hands in fists.

.

"Just go before you make yourself look more like a fool." She snaps, crossing her arms as he picks up his pack.

.

"I love you!" Adray shouts, a few sailors from the ship staring at him in wonder. He rushes on board before Clair thinks to retaliate.

Nel laughs openly, arms crossed and uncaring of the glare sent her way. Clair's expression softens and she chuckles, her knuckles brushing her lips.

.

"He's always so lively." Clair comments while watching the anchor being hoisted.

"I wish he would calm down a little. All that energy might hurt him one day."

.

"He's better this way." Nel responds, leaning on the bricked wall of the staircase.

"Pent up energy doesn't do much good to anyone." Clair beams thoughtfully at her words.

They observe the ship sailing away, Adray on the deck, waving frantically at them.

.

"So." Clair starts, running a hand through her hair. "Has her majesty spoken to you yet?"

Nel sighs, nodding her head, noting the sudden seriousness in her tone.

.

"She has." Nel pauses. The ship gets smaller on the horizon. "Is it safe to assume you didn't come here just to see your father off?"

.

"You know me too well." Clair replies, tugging at her gloves, her lids lowered.

She produces a parchment from her pocket. Nel takes it and breaks the seal, reading the contents inside.

"I have already sent a messenger to the castle to inform your friends of your absence. You'll be free later to join them for dinner."

.

"I see." Nel mutters, placing the parchment in her pack. "You're going to be staying here?"

.

"For now." Clair affirms. "Airas is being taken care of by my subordinates until I return.

We'll meet frequently in the city. Actually, we should leave now." Clair pauses, gauging the time.

.

"It looks like we'll be working together again." Nel states as they walk up the stairs. _"Although, I'm not sure if that is a good thing in this case."_

.

~o~

.

Chubby fingers hover over an orange. He snickers, eyes concentrated on the shop owner by the vegetable cart,

attempting to please a customer with a discount. His hand lowers, lowers, lowers-

.

"Roger, seriously?" Maria drawls as the boy squeaks, gripping his hat.

He sighs upon seeing her crossed arms and blank expression. He shrugs, migrating away from the pile of oranges.

.

"I was admiring their texture." Roger smiles toothily, squaring his shoulders. Maria isn't convinced.

.

She grabs a few pieces of the fruit and walks towards the shop owner,

who places them in a paper bag and thanks her for the money. She hands the goods over to the boy.

.

"It's better to be a law abiding citizen like the rest of us then get thrown in jail."

.

"But you're not from here." Roger whines in protest.

.

"It still applies," says Maria as they walk side by side through the streets.

They head to the docks without further incident, Maria's watchful eye annoying to Roger's sense of kleptomania.

.

"You know." He places a hand behind his head, his tail wagging playfully. "You can invite the others."

.

"Really?"

.

"I don't mind." Roger shrugs, eyes averted to a rack of meat sizzling on an open pan outside a meat shop. Boy does _that_ look good.

.

"I'm glad you thought it over." She smiles genuinely, patting his shoulder. "Everyone will support you. I'm sure of it."

He nods, his thoughts sullying his mood. They reach the dock and notice a pair of boys jumping at the sight of them: Dribe and Melt, Roger's friends.

.

He turns to face Maria as she kneels to be eye level with him.

.

"It starts in two days, so make sure you're prepared!" Roger demands, his lips pouty as he sticks two fingers in her face.

.

"I will." Maria nods, giving him a quick hug.

.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Roger squirms, pulling away and gripping his axe. "Not in front of the guys."

.

"I see no guys around here." Maria sticks her tongue out teasingly. He complains as he makes his way to his friends. "Hey…Roger?"

.

"Hmm?" He turns, illuminated by the early morning sun.

.

"Don't grow up too fast." Maria says fondly, standing up. "And I'm sorry."

.

Her words make him still. He scratches his cheek, eyes lifted skyward.

.

"Yeah, yeah." Roger waves languidly but she can see the appreciation in his eyes. "I make no guarantees."

.

~o~

.

A graying old man sobs on a wooden stool, his hands on his face and his pants stained with grease.

Nel is situated in the middle of the chaos, surveying the scene, a pair of guards at the door as Clair questions a woman with a bandana tied around her head outside.

.

"I don't want a crowd forming." Nel demands to a guard, who salutes and steps out of the room.

She walks, the floors creaking as she stares at the items strewn about the long tables, tools haphazardly stuffed in packs hanging off the walls.

_"There's so much evidence to sort through." _She thinks, turning on her heel, walking behind the counter.

The body is still there, cold and decomposing; the dress tattered, seemingly having been chewed by rats.

She sees one hesitantly come forward and shoos it away with her boot.

.

The doctor kneels over the body, her hand in her chin, her skirts drawn close to her legs.

.

"Anything conclusive?" Nel questions.

.

"So young." The doctor mutters, her hand brushing away a strand of copper hair. "She's been here for some time."

.

"More specifically?"

.

"A week to a week and a half." The doctor concludes. "There isn't any evidence of bruises or wounds."

.

"Strange."

.

"Indeed." The doctor answers, standing up and wiping her hands. "I'll know more once we remove her."

.

"Thank you," replies Nel, making her way to Clair, who has just walked through the door.

.

"This is unusual, yes?" Clair inquires, staring at the old man, who is being guided out the door by the doctor. "He must be in shock."

.

"Why was she here by herself?" Nel questioned.

.

"The daughter's parents passed away a year ago in a scuffle with some Airyglyphians on a trade route.

The grandfather took care of her and lived here in the shop because it's the only place they can afford.

He had to keep going on business trips to keep the shop alive; his granddaughter would take care of the place while he was gone."

Clair informs, reciting from memory. "He just discovered her body earlier this morning after returning from one of his trips."

.

"I see…Couldn't they have gone to a public hearing at the palace?" Nel ponders aloud, fist under her chin.

"There are usually civil hearings twice a week; couldn't he have asked the queen for assistance with his finances?"

.

"Some people don't know how to ask for help." Clair smiles sadly. "Or maybe they're afraid to."

.

Nel gazes at the smeared finger prints on the dusty glass, as if hands tried to grasp the counter harshly before being pulled away.

Little girls are too young to grab on to life too tightly.

.

~o~

.

Fayt stands in front of the doors to the main medical room. He squeaks when it swings open, a young woman gasping in surprise.

.

"Excuse me." She says, rushing past him with a pack of leaflets in her hand.

He peers inside, noticing the incense burning by a cupboard filled with herbs and vials.

A pot boils an unknown substance on a table, a few glass tubes hanging over it, dripping different colored liquids.

.

"I'm sorry to say this isn't a good time Fayt Leingod." Said swordsman spins to find the doctor standing behind him,

her hand on his chest to gently move him aside as a cart covered in cloth is wheeled through.

He takes note of the curves, dips, and hills the cloth creates. That's possibly an arm and that looks like a head.

.

"_Oh_." Fayt mutters. "Did something happen?"

.

"I am not at liberty to discuss this matter." She smiles apologetically, standing in front of him. "Is there something you need?"

.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day." He bows. "I wanted to try again but you're busy-"

.

"Are you alright?" She asks, tilting her head.

.

"I'm fine. There's just a lot of things happening." Fayt replies meekly, rubbing his head. "Is there any way I can do this on my own?"

.

"Meditation requires no one but you." She replies, ushering him inside.

She walks and bends to open a cabinet filled with different colored candles. She plucks three blue candles from the stack and hands them over to Fayt.

.

"Play with the fire, concentrate on it until your mind clears, stretch you're magic until it's flexible and loose.

Then focus on thoughts and memories you cherish; build a positive energy until you are ready to tackle your fear."

She explains, squeezing his hands in her own. "I hope this helps."

.

"Thanks." Fayt smiles faintly, backing away and bowing, before disappearing down the corridor. "I appreciate it."

.

She stares after him, frowning suspiciously. His shadow clings onto the walls longer than usual,

more elongated and frightening than it should be. This isn't the first time she has seen this nor felt this way.

.

~o~

.

Cliff finds Albel in the training area by the barracks, his sword hacking at a dummy made of hay.

.

Albel looks unfocused and wild. He is more of a clean lines kind of guy.

.

"Hey buddy." Cliff calls. Albel huffs, what could be in acknowledgement, and slices the dummy's head off cleanly.

.

"…Ok." Cliff quirks an eyebrow. "Have you seen Fayt?"

.

"Not here." Albel says, swinging the Crimson Scourge from side to side.

.

"Ah well." Cliff sighs, leaning against a stone wall. "Since I can't find him, I wanna ask you something."

.

"I'm busy." Albel hisses, lifting the blade above his head.

.

"Fayt's been acting strange lately, have you noticed?"

.

This catches Albel's attention. He places the sword at his side and glares at him.

.

"What are you babbling about?"

.

"I'm not really sure." Cliff shrugs, grinning lopsidedly. "He just isn't acting like himself, you know?"

.

"_And_?"

.

"You've been with him for awhile, I'm sure you've noticed something."

Cliff walks onto the field and leans an arm against the beheaded dummy, the hay coarse against his skin.

.

Albel snorts, swinging his sword idly.

.

"And if I haven't?"

.

"Then I'll think you're full of bullshit." Cliff answers sharply.

.

"What concern of yours is it to prod in other people's business?" Albel asks, staring at the dummy in loathing.

.

"Fayt's my friend, I'm worried about him."

.

"Friendship doesn't give you special privileges."

.

"Don't talk around the question."

.

"I'm done talking with you." Albel diverts, strolling gracefully towards the staircase.

.

"Are you protecting something for him?" Cliff follows.

.

"Protecting what? The idiotic maggot can defend himself from anything." Albel pauses and smirks. "He is literally a walking disaster."

He finds himself being pushed backwards and he stares at eyes heated like sliced peaches on a grill, caramelizing and striped black and gold.

.

"Don't be an ass." Cliff warns. "I'm asking you a question and I'm expecting an answer."

.

"Don't. Intimidate. Me." Albel growls low.

.

"Is he hiding something from us? Is he sick? Are you protecting him from-"

.

"Me? Do anything for that fool?" Albel laughs, mouth wide open. "I'm flattered you think I am anything near nice."

.

"I want to believe you are." The comment is unexpected, misplaced in their conversation. "And why is that?" He asks, somewhat intrigued.

.

"There must be something good in you to make him stick around. He defends you a lot when you obviously don't need it." Cliff answers bluntly.

.

"Then he's delusional." Albel replies darkly, refusing to admit anything.

.

"Not unless-"

.

"Stop trying to grab onto something that isn't there." Albel grits out.

.

"-the way he talks about you…" Cliff trails off, rubbing his neck in thought. "I think it's more than just talking about a friend."

.

Albel halts completely. He turns to face Cliff fully with a blank stare.

.

"What the _hell _would make you even consider such a thought?"

.

"Mirage." Cliff recalls. "It's similar. Well, maybe, but when Fayt talks about you, it's similar to the way I talk about Mirage. I couldn't help but notice."

.

"What an absurd thought." Albel growls while adjusting the belt to his scabbard as they stare at each other heatedly.

How could Fayt possibly have feelings of that nature? How could those feelings even come about?

Albel is nothing but harsh words and swift sword strokes. _"A man with blood stained hands is no one to be attracted to. Ridiculous."_

.

"If there is something going on between you two-"

.

"Are you _insane_?"

.

"-If there is." He continues before Albel can protest. "Just…"

Cliff squints his eyes, trying to gather the remnants of his thoughts. "Use that sword for more than just hacking at bodies."

.

Albel lifts an eyebrow, about to dismiss his words, until Cliff steps beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

.

"If you hurt him, I will freaking decimate you." Cliff states edgily, his eyes suddenly narrowed.

"He doesn't need anyone's crap with all he's been through. So don't give him a hard time."

.

~o~

.

Peppita bobs her head from side to side at the dining table, fascinated at hearing Maria's news.

.

"We're going to a festival in Roger's home town?"

She squeaks happily, her excitement unable to be contained. She swings her legs and grips the edge of her seat.

.

"When was this even decided?" Cliff asks, drinking beer from a cup.

He had to bribe a maid to sneak the beverage from a local bar since the queen only indulged in fine wines.

.

"Sorry it's last minute." Maria laughs quietly, staring at the collective curious gazes around the table. "Roger would appreciate it if you all came."

.

"But what kind of festival is it?" Sophia prods, twirling her fork, eyeing Fayt all the while. A festival sounds like a good way to relax.

.

"Well…" Maria trails off, her lips a thin line. Should she divulge details?

She needs to tell them something since she's practically dragging them along, whether with or without their consent. "It's a festival to celebrate the dead."

.

"Oh?" Fayt leans forward, surprised. Sophia notices he's in a more talkative mood than usual, kind of like his old self.

She likes the change, albeit it is sudden. "I didn't know they had those types of events here."

.

"I've only been to it twice," says Nel, "It's quite a fun celebration that takes place across the Sanmite Republic.

The festival in Roger's hometown hosts many strength and endurance games. They usually have a bon fire by the sea at the end of the night."

.

"Oooh, it sounds like fun! Let's go Cliff! Please?" Peppita whines, tugging on his pant leg. He sighs, ruffling her hair in a fatherly manner.

.

"Sure. It'll be cool to be around different scenery." He grins as Peppita shouts, thrilled.

Soon the rest follow in agreement, except for Albel, who sits back in his seat, legs stretched out before him.

.

"Then you can get a gift for Mirage! I'm sure she'll like that." Peppita suggests.

.

"Good idea." Cliff replies. He randomly thinks that even though he doesn't see himself as father material,

Peppita always finds a way to bring out the best in him. _"Just like a daughter." _He is a bit embarrassed by the thought.

.

His eyes land on Maria, who sits next to the troupe performer. She averts her gaze but Cliff sees it;

her irises clouding over until they are no longer content. _"Did I say something wrong?"_

.

"Why didn't Roger invite us himself?" Cliff turns at Fayt's comment, his younger companion taking a bite of his roasted pork.

.

"_Albel and Fayt together in _that _way?" _ Cliff's eyebrows crinkle at the sudden thought._ "Disturbing but I can handle it, right?" _

.

"I didn't-" Fayt almost chokes, swallowing the remains of his food.

"-get to talk to him much when he came." Sophia pats his back and he smiles gratefully at her.

.

"He probably forgot." Maria lies. "He happened to mention it to me before he left.

You know how he thinks of being a man more than anything else."

.

"This is so exciting, just two more days!" Peppita interrupts gleefully.

Sophia tells her to finish eating her meal instead of bouncing and doing cartwheels around the room. Fayt laughs at her antics and peers at Albel.

.

"It'll be fine. Death's your style, right?" Fayt leans in close to his companion while whispering, attempting at a joke.

Albel is weary, wondering why Fayt seems to be in a lighthearted mood.

.

The heat between them is startling, sizzling, and yet, Albel doesn't move.

He drinks his wine instead, metal digits tracing the wood of the table, unable to feel its rough texture. His thoughts swirl around Cliff's earlier comment.

He glances at the Klausian, who stares back, eyes riddled with secrets. Albel grunts, tempted to throw his drink into that supposedly all knowing face.

Honestly, Fayt feels nothing remotely romantic for him.

.

He side glances at Fayt, whose finger pokes at the flower patterns in the cushion he sits on while lifting a glass of water to his lips.

.

Suddenly, Albel's finger lies on his own, tracing his knuckles and the creases where the digit bends.

Fayt is frozen in mid drink, eyes focused on the carpet hanging on the other side of the wall.

The finger shifts from the back of his hand to his wrist, Albel's ministrations hidden by the table.

.

Fayt sets his cup down carefully, breathing deeply, snatching Albel's hand before it rises any higher.

.

He frowns at the lack of heat emitting from Fayt's skin.

He is about to pull away but Fayt refuses to let go and Albel doesn't want to make a scene,

especially when the others would question their suspicious hand holding.

He would rather be skinned like potatoes than be caught in this position.

.

Albel has no one to blame but himself for this.

.

So he sits throughout dinner with a grumpy expression, his hand imprisoned by Fayt's firm grasp.

These intimate touches are starting to happen too often. He doesn't like it…not because he's being touched, but because, _"they don't mean anything, do they?"_

.

And no, he didn't just think that.

.

~o~

.

**She's a pile of cherry cheeks, the stems her hair, waiting to be plucked until she's bald, naked of flavor. **

**Her clothes are the skin, waiting to be peeled until she's naked, **

**until he chews and gets to the center, where her heart sits like a cherry pit. It's beating, beating-**

.

**He's beating her heart with his foot, cracking the fleshy shell. **

**There's nothing left of her to grasp, to eat.**

.

**She watches the little girl wreath, unable to do anything**

.

**That boot is covered in blood and its heading her way, leaving prints on the floor. **

.

Sophia clutches the sheets close to her chest, gasping for air.

.

She sits in bed, cloaked in darkness, her arms shaky as she hugs herself.

.

"Horrible." Sophia whispers. She is suddenly aware of her surroundings, as if something creeps in the shadows.

.

She's never had a dream like that before. She felt so disconnected from the little girl being beaten until nothing of her was left,

as if the dream wasn't her own to begin with.

.


	11. X

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**X**

.

Albel hacks at a tree in the castle's garden to piss Nel off.

The wench deserves a head ache after what she has put him through.

He is very tempted to etch a face smiling wickedly in the bark but that would be too childish.

Then again, taking his frustrations out on a tree isn't any better.

Maybe he should harass the maids or even threaten the cooks.

.

Satisfied with the destruction he leaves behind, Albel twirls his sword while walking through the corridors.

His amusement doesn't last long; it isn't enough to smother images of Fayt holding his hand,

healing his wounds, being disgustingly tender.

.

"_None of those silly gestures matter,"_ thinks Albel, halting outside the dining room.

.

_"I think it's more than just talking about a friend."_

.

What a thought. _What a thought_.

.

Albel laughs, shaking his head.

.

_"Mirage." Cliff recalled. "It's similar. Well, maybe, but when Fayt talks about you, _

_it's similar to the way I talk about Mirage. I couldn't help but notice."_

.

He quiets at the memory. It has been a day and Cliff's words refuse to leave his mind.

How can Fayt speak of him as if he is worthy of praise, as if he is priceless?

.

"I am none of those things." Albel slams his fist on the wall.

.

"Aw, really? Do I have to?"

.

"Well, this is a first. You're reluctant to come back?" Albel does not recognize this voice.

.

"It's not that Uncle Pic. I miss everyone a lot, you know?"

Albel hears Peppita whine as he opens the door just a crack.

The little girl kicks a column idly. "When do I have to be back?"

.

"We'll pick you up in three days, is that ok?"

.

Albel sighs in relief. Thank the gods, the brat is leaving.

He won't miss her, really, he won't.

.

~o~

.

_**Shuffle…Hmm?...Back off!...shuffle…PUNCH...Whoa!...What the fuck are you…? Hey! Kick. Slap!**_

.

_**SMASH**_

.

_**Oh god…Pull'em apart! CRASH. STOP WRECKING EVERYTHING! Dragggggggggg…smack. Stop it! **_

.

_**Get'em apart!**_

.

~o~

.

Albel has always been taught to be aware of his emotions as a warrior,

to shut them out on the battlefield, to use them for deceptive purposes.

He thought a part of himself was a walking corpse, part of his emotions rotting with disuse.

Yet Fayt and his damnable presence is scraping the mold away,

cutting the stale bits off until his emotions look new again, ready to be of some good use.

.

Albel admits he is in denial when it comes to Fayt.

He is just as nasty, just as rude but he cannot seem to keep his hands off his companion.

He knows a certain emotion stirs him to be this way.

He has felt it before with his father, Count Woltar, even towards his king,

but this time the emotion sinks into a deeper layer of his skin than any of those bonds created.

.

He _knows_.

.

In a dark corner of the castle, away from prying eyes and curious gazes, he admits it.

The confession is crooked instead of curved, wonky instead of balanced.

.

"Shit." He whispers, frowning while straightening his posture and continuing to walk, his pace quickening.

.

~o~

.

Cliff and Maria stroll through the main courtyard. Maria bows politely to the passing noblemen.

Cliff places his hand on his neck and the other rests on his hip.

The position has always seemed oddly comfortable to him.

.

"It sucks Peppita is going to leave soon." Cliff comments and gazes at the sky.

.

"She'll make it for the festival at least." Maria smiles, staring at Cliff's side profile.

She thinks it is in these times he does not look so arrogant.

His face is handsome when it's relaxed, his jaw strong and his eyes far away and cloudy.

She wonders where his mind is and wants to be there too.

.

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

.

They halt by a fountain and Cliff picks up his communicator.

.

"Hey Mirage!" Cliff beams, laughing as his fiancé scolds him.

He smiles sheepishly to Maria, who shoos him off so he can continue his conversation.

He walks a few feet away and Maria sits by the fountain.

She pulls her glove off and her fingers glide in the water, cool and languid against her skin.

.

She sighs at how obnoxiously loud he is being, bending his head back, laughing.

He is having a more wonderful time with his communicator than with her.

.

The thought makes her glower and she decides to give them more privacy.

.

"Hey, Mirage, I'll call you back later ok? I'm doing a few errands…"

Cliff trails off as he gazes at the empty water fountain. Confused, he searches around. Maria has disappeared.

.

~o~

.

The touches, the arguments, the secrets, the trust, the gestures, the stares, its all there.

Albel _knows_ it is no matter how ridiculous the idea appears.

.

~o~

.

"Take two teaspoons of this powder and with it, the bruises will heal faster."

The doctor smiles at the woman, who hisses and snatches the burlap pack from her hands.

Nel glares at her and she apologizes immediately for her rudeness.

.

"Who was that?" Clair calls, walking over to the pair standing in front of a shop.

The woman hurries away, escorted by a guard.

.

"A possible witness. She claims to have seen someone walk into this shop before the victim's death.

She's being questioned for more details. Her injuries are unrelated to the incident but it doesn't hurt to investigate her.

It looks like she has been beaten by someone." Nel explains. Clair nods while staring at the cracked windows of the store front.

.

"Where is the body?" Clair questions as they enter the shop. "Another girl?"

.

"Whoever is doing this is really starting to piss me off." Nel comments,

crossing her arms as Clair gives her a skeptical eye. "Why pick on the innocent?"

.

"It isn't just little girls you know." Clair shifts her scarf on her shoulders,

shielding her nose from the smell of the decaying body, which lies behind the counter,

also absent of bruises and blood. Her skin is pale like the flour caking her dress.

"I've been gathering reports from other towns nearby.

There have also been similar occurrences, not discriminating against age."

.

"Which towns?"

.

"Peterny for one. There were a few cases in which bodies appeared with no apparent wounds." Clair explains.

"If the townspeople ever think to link these occurrences together, rumors will spread quickly."

.

"Along with fear. They will think all sorts of crazy ideas. We can't have that." Nel states firmly.

.

~o~

.

"He's asking questions." Albel says wearily.

.

"Who?"

.

"The ogre." Albel growls and leans against the door frame to Fayt's bedroom,

watching his companion pack for the oncoming trip. He shouldn't be here but he needs answers.

.

"Don't call Cliff that." Fayt reprimands, shoving a pair of pants into his bag and clipping his communicator to his belt.

"And what are you talking about?"

.

"He's suspicious of your actions as of late." Albel replies, closing the door behind him with his boot.

He reaches Fayt's bed and leans on the bed post, eyeing the ties that hold the bag closed.

"Your friends are moronic but when they are in the vicinity of suspicious activity, they suddenly turn intelligent."

.

"I'll be careful." Fayt rolls his eyes, despite the worry creeping in his mind.

He already has an inkling Cliff is on to him.

.

"I'm sure you will." Albel drawls. "He comes up with the strangest hypothesis."

.

"Like what?" Fayt questions absentmindedly, checking off what else he intends to bring.

"I need a book." He whispers to himself, walking towards his desk, scanning through the stacked leaflets.

.

"Ridiculous ideas," Albel waves his hand, dropping onto the mattress, the Crimson Scourge held above him.

He stares at his reflection in the metal, his eyes curious,

"on the lines of protection, secrecy, and deception, that sort of nonsense."

Fayt lifts an eyebrow at the description. "He even has this notion we're romantically involved."

.

Fayt drops the book he carries, deaf to the clatter it makes as it hits the floor.

Albel seems amused, although his eyes are watchful, calculating, and gauging his reaction.

.

Fayt slowly kneels to pick up the book but his hands freeze.

Of all the things to mention, why did Cliff have to say that?

.

Fayt snaps his head upward to find Albel crouching at the edge of the bed, hand and claw sinking into the sheets.

.

"Absurd isn't it?" Albel inquires, shifting so he is sitting on the bed properly, leering at him.

"That we-" pausing, he bends beside Fayt and notices his clenched fists.

"-could be-" his metal digits caress Fayt's cheek, scratching his skin.

He grabs his chin forcefully until their staring at one another.

Fayt appears vulnerable and filled with something he can't quite-

.

No, Albel knows this gaze: this quiet yearning to be smothered by desire.

He has seen it before on the smirking faces of prostitutes when he strolled through the streets of Airyglyph,

or the maids who poured wine for the rowdy patrons at the pub.

.

It is disturbing to see it so naked in Fayt's eyes.

It is even more disturbing when he realizes he stared at Fayt in this way before.

.

"-lovers?" Albel finishes, leaning in until his nose is to Fayt's cheek.

.

This is not him-_this is not me_-but no one is watching, no one will know.

.

Fayt's heart races to a finish line he can't reach.

.

"I expect to be looked at when I'm talking to you." Albel grabs his arm,

bringing them closer until they have double vision.

.

Fayt tries to collect himself, warring with the urge to rip that strange expression off Albel's face.

He can hear the ticking of the clock in his ear, low and foreboding.

.

"What do you think of Cliff's speculations?" Albel asks,

snatching a fistful of Fayt's hair, tilting his head upward, his nose trailing down his neck. "Has he asked you about this?"

.

Fayt attempts to pull away from this contact he secretly craves for.

Albel's grip tightens as he continues his ministrations, his lips tracing Fayt's collarbone,

ascending, ascending until he draws close, a thin ribbon of air between their lips. Elongated minutes elapse.

.

"I won't make a move." Albel states seriously, eyelids lowering.

.

"What?" Fayt inhales sharply, shoulders stiffening, his back grinding into the bed post.

.

"If what I am doing is making you uncomfortable, say or _do_ something about it."

.

The saying is difficult, the doing is tempting, and this position is suffocating.

.

"Will it mean anything to you if I do something?" Fayt asks breathlessly, catching on immediately.

There is no way to mistake the situation he finds himself in.

.

"Will it mean something to _you_?"

.

The silence stretches, strains, snaps.

.

"Because if it does this won't end well." Albel whispers darkly.

.

"What are you implying?" Fayt raises his eyebrows in surprise.

.

"You know exactly what I mean." Albel glares.

"Whatever the hell is going on between us has to stop. _Now_."

.

~o~

.

Maria sits in a quiet café on a side street, away from the bustling crowd.

She hopes she has chosen a hidden enough place to be alone with her thoughts.

.

She sips her tea while crossing her leg over the other.

This day encompasses everything she is; the still air, the empty sky, the hollowness of the café.

She swirls the steaming liquid in her cup with a scratched ridden spoon, her plate of sweets already empty,

thinking of blond hair, red lips, wedding catalogs, and dress patterns.

.

She takes out her communicator, noting the four missed calls from Cliff, and scrolls through her inbox.

The damn wedding invitation is still there with its cream background and slanted black text.

.

"You do remember Mirage taught me how to hack into devices so I can locate certain persons of interests."

Cliff deadpans, startling Maria, who clicks the screen to her communicator off, pocketing the device quickly.

In her absorbed thinking, she did forget that.

_.  
_

_"It's not like me to forget things." _

.

Cliff sits across from Maria with a quizzical expression.

.

"You left me." Cliff states flatly, a slight whine in his tone.

Maria smiles faintly before she continues to drink her tea.

.

"You left me first." She jokes.

.

"It was a phone call and I didn't take long. I got worried when you suddenly disappeared."

He replies, face darkening. "Why'd you do that?"

.

"Sorry, something came up." Maria places her cup on the table in exasperation.

.

"What was so important that you couldn't warn me before you left?" Cliff's annoyance is apparent.

He is surprised to find Maria ignore him instead, place money on the table, and rise from her seat.

.

He grabs her wrist.

.

"What's wrong?" Cliff furrows his eyebrows. Maria is usually collected and direct with her opinions.

It's the first time he sees her at a loss for words and looking ashamed.

.

"I'm just-" Maria pauses, unsure of how to phrase her answer.

.

"You know you can talk to me about anything." Cliff tugs her forward, fully facing one another.

"What happened? You've been acting odd lately."

.

"Have I?"

.

"Yeah, I don't like it."

.

"How do you want me to act, then?" Maria retorts, frustrated with his caring tone and worried eyes.

"Like I don't have anything that stresses me out?"

.

"That's not what I'm saying and you know it. I want to help."

.

"Don't worry about it." Maria turns but is pulled back forcefully into a strong embrace,

Cliff trapping her arms to his chest.

.

"Hey." He whispers softly, resting his cheek on her hair.

"We've known each other for awhile. You can count on me, right? That hasn't changed, has it?"

.

Maria's eyelids lower as she grips his vest,

wanting to push this warmth away because she knows she steals it from someone else.

She knows this is an embrace she cannot call her own.

She doesn't belong in these arms but she doesn't pull away either.

.

"If there is something you want but can't have, would you still go after it?" Maria questions quietly.

.

"What do you mean?" Cliff asks, pulling away but Maria wraps her arms around his middle.

.

"Forget it…never mind." She answers.

"We should head back. We have to leave soon for the festival anyway."

.

~o~

.

"What?" Fayt widens his eyes. "You don't think that-"

Albel glares at him and he has his answer. "_You do_."

.

"It's been quite an obvious issue we chose to ignore,"

ridicules Albel, "and I won't do so anymore."

.

"How obvious?" Fayt shouts, suddenly angry.

"Stop making assumptions. You don't know how I feel-"

.

"I do know how_ I_ feel." Albel says and Fayt stills.

He never thinks Albel to give such a thing much thought.

.

"…About?"

.

"You want to feign ignorance just like you do with your powers?

Is that the path you really want to take with me?"

.

"What does it matter?" Fayt yells defensively. "You want this-" He points between them,

"-to be over, so it will." He picks up his bag irritably, only to be yanked backwards.

.

"I'm not done talking to you yet!"

.

"I'm done, so get the hell off me." Fayt's eyes glow like blueberries painted in moonlight.

Albel isn't intimidated by the partial appearance of Fayt's inner chaos. His grip stays firm.

.

"You will stand here and wait till-" _**fire licks Albel's lips, searing and scaring. **_

_**Screams that aren't his own rumble inside his mouth, drop into his throat, and vibrate in his stomach. **_

_**They push into his veins, growing louder until his body hums.**_

.

Fayt forces their lips to bend and break, mold and mend.

He grips Albel's cheeks roughly, massaging and angling his mouth on Albel's own.

They hit the edge of the bed and Fayt falls on top of him.

.

Fayt is tired of having to hold back, of being careful, of pretending.

.

He presses his lips further, the kiss open mouthed and swollen,

pulsating blue veins appearing on Albel's face.

.

Fayt hears Albel's voice in his head as if his thoughts filter through the kiss.

It's difficult for him to comprehend those sloppy and loud words,

but he hears Albel's self loathing, his blame for his father's death.

It is a mantra in Albel's mind Fayt tries to stop.

The thoughts are too shrouded in shadows for him to hold on to.  
.

Fayt doesn't realize his own thoughts buzz in Albel's brain, ricocheting off its walls.

He hears Fayt's pain for his father, loss for his mother, fear for his friends,

and there it is, his feelings for him, naked, out of control.

Albel grabs onto them, surprised at how deep Fayt's affection for him goes,

how endless it seems, not realizing he kisses Fayt back by doing so,

tongue on tongue, wet like the tears they never shed,

scalding hot like his hand and claw on Fayt's waist.

.

Albel's thoughts are so heavily cloaked in darkness Fayt has to break the kiss.

They're frazzled, undone, and breathing heavily. He marvels at the usage of his powers. He hadn't expected this.

.

"I-" Fayt touches his lips slowly, eyes unfocused. He thinks to apologize but a question tumbles out instead.

"If you say this is over, then why didn't you pull away?"

He sits up, straddling Albel's hips, watching the veins disappear.

"I know I'm being a coward over a lot of things.

I'm scared of killing this sense of family I've made with my friends.

I'm scared I'll hurt others with these powers I have, but you know, I've been_ really_ scared of losing you."

Fayt admits shakily, laughing bitterly. "I have all these horrible dreams about you.

Watching you suffer in your sleep doesn't help either.

I've been meditating though; I'm trying to at least resolve this issue with myself." Fayt bites his lips.

"So don't shut out this possibility of us just yet. I refuse to hear you say no without even trying."

.

Fayt gasps as he is flipped over, metal and flesh digging into his wrists.

Albel hovers above him, eyes narrowed and stormy. He makes no comment on Fayt's powers because this time,

he has gotten something out of this exchange. He got more answers than he bargained for.

.

"And if I say no anyway?" Albel whispers menacingly. His words lack cruel intent.

.

"I'll come after you because if your questioning me now, I'll know you don't really mean to say no."

.

"You don't know that."

.

"I'm hoping I do."

.

"You're an idiot like the rest of the maggots you associate with!"

.

"Then you're an idiot with me!"

.

Albel releases Fayt's wrist and pulls at his collar as if about to punch him.

He is ready to argue but he is too close to Fayt's face, his lips.

.

He releases his companion and storms out the room.

.

This is a moment of weakness Albel will never be able to live down

because he actually believes in Fayt's feelings.

.


	12. XI Part I

******Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**XI**

**Part I**

.

Albel sits on a chair across from where Fayt sleeps in bed,

the latter's head snuggled against a fluffy pillow and his body partially covered by blankets.

.

Albel's charred arm is exposed, propped on the arm rest, the bandage removed from his hand.

He had to stretch the scarred muscles to maintain some flexibility.

He taps a burnt finger to his cheek contemplatively.

.

_He would end this. He would. No good would come out of Fayt and him being together. _

_He made his way back to Fayt's room that night, aware of the creeping quiet of the castle. _

_He was about to open Fayt's bedroom door, but noticed a shadow dancing in his peripheral vision. _

_Albel's eyes squinted while he lifted an eyebrow. _

_He spotted the unmistakable blue hair and tanned limbs of his companion._

.

_"What is that idiot doing?" Albel muttered and stealthily followed Fayt a safe distance. _

_He couldn't help notice how jarring Fayt appeared in the dim light seeping through the windows. _

_His shoulders were slouched, his arms dead weight, and his legs seemed to bend outward at the knees, _

_as if ready to snap at the strange angle. _

.

"_Where do you think your going?" Albel hissed. No response. _

.

_Albel closed the distance between them rapidly, snatched Fayt's arm roughly, and spun him around. _

_His grip tightened as he gazed at Fayt's glowing and unfocused blue eyes._

.

"_Fayt?" Albel said but his companion didn't acknowledge him. _

_He glanced around before slowly tugging Fayt behind him, returning him to his room and placing him back in bed. _

_He took vigil on the chair, watching Fayt slowly close his eyes and hopefully fall asleep without further incident. _

.

Albel buckles his gauntlet back to his arm and walks towards the door.

Before leaving, he stares at Fayt, outlining his relaxed eyebrows and parted lips with his eyes.

He didn't know Fayt sleepwalks. He would have known about it before hand, wouldn't he?

.

~o~

.

Sophia's hands glide across the wooden rail, eyes alight in excitement at the boats bobbing against the docks.

She hadn't seen the piers of Aquios the last time she came.

Nel had explained the piers were shut down during the war, halting trade and travel.

Since the war is over, the sea economy has been booming.

Even the water passage through the mountains has been reopened,

offering a direct route to the Sanmite Republic.

.

She watches flags, stitched with the emblem of Aquaria, flutter from the wind drifting through the dock gates.

Shipmates haul luggage as women converse by a bulletin board covered in maps and advertisements.

It reminds her of the subway maps and stations back at home. She misses Earth.

.

"Ready Sophia?" Fayt calls, appearing beside her. Sophia spots Cliff arguing with one of the shipmates.

He doesn't appear to be into the argument; but his eyes are alive with mischief.

She rolls her eyes. Always trust Cliff to have some fun.

.

"Yeah." She finally answers, glancing at Peppita skipping steps two at a time, Nel and Maria trailing behind her.

.

Fayt is about to walk after the group but Sophia grabs his arm.

.

"I just wanted-" She pauses, lips parted. She shakes her head and draws away. "I'll tell you later."

.

"Tell me what?" Fayt tilts his head in puzzlement. She smiles and pats his shoulder.

.

"Sorry, it's not the best time to bring it up, let's enjoy this trip! I'll tell you later, promise."

Sophia prances towards the staircase. "Let's go before they leave us!"

.

~o~

.

_The trip had been uneventful but wasn't completely boring._

_Fayt found himself mesmerized by the water's reflection bouncing off the jagged edges of rocks,_

_as if **the** **cave was a creature shifting, allowing them passage.**_

_He doesn't think any caverns within mountains this massive can be found on Earth,_

_especially able to fit a ship inside. The interior was coated in orange light from the torches, and Fayt shivered, _

_thinking he saw **his shadow projected on the walls, its head rigid, unseen eyes leering at him**._

_He thought **his shadow waited for the lights to snuff out so it can grab him, drown him in the water**,_

_and possibly **drag him until the tips of rocky walls dug into his back and made him bleed**._

_He decided to gaze at Cliff playing cards with a few shipmates on barrels._

.

.

After a few short hours, Fayt steps off the boat, greeted by the chaotic port of the Sanmite Republic.

The place is bustling with hoofed feet, fur tails, pointed ears, dog, horse, and fish like creatures.

Fayt doesn't remember seeing so many different species in one place, let alone the place itself.

The captain explained the port has been recently constructed into a town.

It became the new gateway into the Sanmite Republic instead of the small village of Suferio.

.

Sanmites carry baskets of fruit while a merchant shouts above the crowd's chatter,

pointing to his collection of swords and axes, in which a group of boys attempt to steal.

.

Maria's eyes narrow when she spots Roger amongst the thieves.

.

"This boy just doesn't care for what anyone says does he?"

Maria huffs, pushing pass the crowd and forcing the boys away from the merchant.

They scatter but Maria is able to snatch Roger, hearing him complain as she drags him towards the group.

Peppita stares at him critically, arms crossed and a frown on her lips.

.

"Haha, hey gang!" Roger greets with a toothy grin, eyeing his friends' unamused gazes.

"I thought I'd have a bit of fun while I was waiting!"

.

"Stealing isn't fun." Peppita scolds.

.

"Sure it is. I could've snagged you a nice gift."

Roger pouts as Maria slaps him on the back of his head, wobbling his helmet. "Hey! Don't touch the helmet!"

.

Maria rolls her eyes and they land on Cliff, who gazes at her in perplexity.

She clears her throat and urges Roger to guide them through the maze of the port station.

.

Sophia spots a pair of rabbits with vests fussing over an open bag, switching items between them.

She ducks as a wing almost slams into her face. She grabs onto Fayt's hand, swinging their arms back and forth.

Fayt smiles at her playfulness but suddenly remembers Cliff's words.

.

Some part of him knows that this holding of hands means more to her than it does to him.

.

~o~

.

Roger is able to grab two carts heading into Suferio and everyone piles in, riding on a well worn traveled road.

Peppita marvels at kids flying kites into the clear afternoon sky,

reminding her of brown paper bags crayoned in grape green and strawberry reds.

She forgot mountains exist, leaves aren't artificial, and water isn't just for drinking while observing the creeks they pass by.

This is how the mood should have been like when she reached Elicoor II: Natural and overwhelmingly cheerful.

.

The dirt road turns into wooden planks and they reach the village about a half hour later.

The group-except for Albel-is amazed at the activity already taking place.

Fayt finds unlit lanterns dangling above the raised wooden platforms.

The windows and doors to the houses are left open, streams of what seems like red ribbon tied to the sills.

A group of Menodix women pass by the carts, carrying bowls of vegetables and hay.

The smell of cooked meat and salt water mingle in the air.

.

"Isn't this exciting?" Peppita cheers, waving to a group of mermaids chatting in the waters below.

The cart stops just outside the largest house in the village, where the front door opens and Roger's father appears.

.

"Welcome to Suferio. It has been some time since I've seen you Fayt, even though our meeting was brief.

I didn't know Roger acquired an interesting choice in friends."

He smiles, arms wide as if to encompass them. He spots Roger hiding behind one of the wheels of the cart.

He eyes his son, the latter sighing and trudging forward. "Is that how you greet your father?"

.

Roger shifts his helmet on his head and grips his axe. He sticks his tongue out and puffs out his chest.

Peppita pouts and is about to intervene, but Maria holds her back with a knowing smile.

.

"We'll talk later." He directs his comment towards Roger.

"Despite my son's rudeness, he at least remembered to tell me of your visit.

Please make yourselves comfortable in those houses. They've already been prepared."

He points west to two houses squished together on a platform some distance away.

.

~o~

.

The guys settle in, passing by the common space, where the kitchen and dining area are situated.

In the bedroom, four bunks are laid out, two hanging off the ground, above a bed each. Trinkets and horns hang off the walls.

The windows are curtainless, sunlight filtering through. Cliff takes the bed farthest from the door,

while Albel throws his things on one of the hanging bunks, Fayt below him.

.

"Want to check the place out?" Cliff asks and Fayt shakes his head.

.

"I'm actually feeling pretty tired. I think I'll sleep in for a bit."

Fayt answers, kicking off his shoes and crossing his arms behind his head.

.

"You know the festival starts tonight?" Cliff states.

.

"Umhm." Fayt mutters, closing his eyes. "I'll be up by then. It's only a short nap."

.

"Well, ok," says Cliff, shrugging his shoulders. He makes no attempt to ask Albel. He walks out instead.

.

"I will agree to one thing that has been previously mentioned."

Albel states offhandedly, digging the tip of his claw into the pad of his thumb. "You tend to sleep often."

.

"Do I?" Fayt questions. "I've never told anyone this, but I have nightmares, even when I'm awake.

I see things I never want to experience. The pain feels too familiar to be imagined. My power is causing this."

Fayt turns to stare at Albel. "A part of me wants that violence I see in my nightmares. Is that weird?"

.

"No. In general, you are strange."

Albel responds snidely, gripping the bars of his bed, peering at Fayt.

.

"I don't want to feel that craving." Fayt sits up, his arm extending until his fingers brush Albel's cheek lightly.

"I have these images of ripping your face apart. I keep seeing you crippled and bloody."

.

Albel laughs disbelievingly at this.

.

"Is that so? Me, a complete cripple? How insulting."

.

"I'm being serious," responds Fayt, "you think I want to see you that way?

Broken to a point that even I can't help you?"

.

"It will not happen," says Albel, pulling away. Fayt grabs his cheeks, drawing him closer.

"I don't need anyone's help."

.

"I can help you."

.

"You can't even help yourself."

.

"We'll work on that."

.

"Stop this infernal need to touch me."

.

"Then pull away," goads Fayt.

.

"Go sleep." Albel pries himself from Fayt's grip.

.

"Walk away." Fayt shouts after him. "It doesn't change the fact you kissed me back."

Albel's keen ears hear Fayt's whisper. He quickens his pace, stalking out of the house.

.

~o~

.

Fayt awakens to mutterings beyond the windows as darkness creeps up the walls.

Has he really slept in that long? He stretches quickly and goes to place his shoes on.

.

"Have you been in here this whole time?" Sophia stands by the doorway hesitantly,

arms behind her back as she watches him strap his boots on.

.

"Sorry, I didn't think I was that sleepy." Fayt states sheepishly.

.

"The festival is about to start." Sophia explains. Fayt notices her pinned up hair,

small vines of bent wood twining in the front where loose strands frame her face.

.

"You look nice." Fayt comments to lighten the mood.

.

"Thanks, some of the girls in town wanted to play with my hair, so I let them."

Sophia giggles. Fayt quickly gets dressed and they make their way out.

Fayt observes a line of Sanmites carrying torches in the night, scarves loose around their necks, eyes solemn.

"For a festival, this doesn't seem like a festive mood."

.

"Yeah, it doesn't." Fayt agrees, following the trail of torches to the center of town.

Fayt spots Cliff waving to them in the crowd. Menodix men and women situate themselves on the planks,

legs dangling off the platform as the mermaids below watch their feet sway.

They walk over, reaching a large oak tree by the edge of the small island,

branches like fingers stretching to reach him, the base lit with fire.

Fayt spots Albel sitting in the thick branches, partially hidden by the foliage.

.

"Seriously, you sleep too much." Cliff complains to Fayt, rising from the grass.

.

"I was tired." Fayt answers, placing a hand on his hip.

.

"Here, I picked these up for all of you." Maria interrupts, opening a bag and passing around wooden boats with paper sails.

The group looks curiously at the supposed toys.

.

"What's this for?" Cliff raises an eyebrow, running a finger against the wood's grain.

.

"This is the day of mourning. It is the way all Sanmites open this kind of festival."

Nel explains, leaning against the tree while accepting a boat.

"This is when the Sanmites lament on loved ones past.

There are no battles to fight, no egos to stomp over this day."

.

"Really?" Sophia's eyes widen, clutching the boat tightly in her grasp.

.

"This _is_ the festival of the dead." Nel smiles faintly, approaching the water.

.

"My fellow Sanmites." A voice booms over the crowd. Roger's father stands in the middle, by the water's edge.

"Many wars have taken away what we hold dear, and many more wars will continue to be unrelenting."

Fayt notices Roger walking through the crowd, a boat clutched to his tiny chest.

.

"Over here." Maria calls and Roger's ears perk at the noise.

He wiggles his way through the crowd. He places his boat by the root of the tree.

.

"Let us give thanks to fathers and sons who have honored our families, to mothers who have filled our bellies with food and love,

to daughters who have kept us clothed and warm." Roger's father holds up a boat, the color a darker wood.

"In our past years, we have lost many and gained even more allies.

Today we place the souls of loved ones on these boats and pass them on into the afterlife,

deep beneath the waters, where they continue their journey beyond a mortal life."

His father walks to the platform's edge, followed by a few Sanmites.

With a torch, he lights a candle stuck onto its surface.

"Set these boats a flame and let the dead know their souls may sleep in peace."

.

Fayt stares in awe as Sanmites gather and light their boats.

They're floating stars, twinkling specks of glitter on the water, the wood damp as they sail away.

.

Upon feeling a tap on his shoulder, Fayt turns to find Maria holding a stick, the tip on fire.

.

"I think it's time for me and my mother to part ways. I want to send her off somewhere she can rest peacefully.

I think she would like this place," says Maria, her eyes aglow and calm. "Will you be sending off anyone?"

.

Fayt's mouth parts while watching Maria bend besides Roger, lighting his boat for him.

.

"Roger?" Peppita questions timidly, bottom lip jutting out.

Roger stares at the flame flickering on his boat, his fingers drumming against the wood.

.

"Mom said one day, when I'm tired of fighting, I would be sending one of these boats out." Roger starts, turning away from the group.

"She said I would be older, my hair gray, and she would be gone along with dad." He approaches the water's edge, face crestfallen.

"But I'm not old enough and I'm still fighting. What a liar." Roger puffs his cheeks, refusing to release the boat.

.

"Oh…" Peppita gasps, kneeling beside him. "I'm sorry Roger, I didn't know."

.

"She died last year, after the last festival." Roger shrugs, pulling at the paper sail.

"She was attacked on a trading route. No one survived."

.

Fayt stares at his boat, understanding the full weight of it beneath his fingertips.

His eyes linger on the crowd, then to Roger, then to Albel sitting in the tree, seemingly detached from the occasion.

.

"But he isn't." Fayt whispers, realizing how much of a unified collective he is with these strangers and friends.

It has been awhile since he feels swallowed by something larger than himself,

and he doesn't feel overwhelmed by it because they are all grieving together.

.

Fayt walks and kneels alongside Roger, angling his boat enough to catch the wick on fire from Roger's candle.

Peppita smiles and does the same.

.

"I'll send off my dad, he would like that." Fayt blurts out, swallowing the lump in his throat.

It seems difficult to breathe. He's never thought to deal with this so suddenly, and realizes just how much he thinks about his father.

He's always thought on the why's, the how's of his father's research,

forgetting this scientist was the person who used to surprise him with video games when he was younger.

He's forgotten those times spent lounging around the house,

watching television as a kid, curled into his father's side and drifting to sleep.

He forgot his father never wore cologne, but always managed to maintain a clean scent,

as if he was freshly washed laundry.

.

His father was two different people he can't seem to imagine as one person.

He can't find it in himself to mush the scientist and the loving father he keeps locked in his memories.

.

Can Fayt let go? Is it ok to?

.

"Me too." Peppita chirps, scooting closer to the group.

.

"What happened to your dad?" Cliff asks, sitting next to her.

.

"I don't really know. I've never met him." Peppita bobs her head.

"I've never thought about him much. I'd like to think that if he were alive, he would be with me,

and mom too. She left when I was younger." Peppita smiles sadly.

"This seems like a pretty cool place to be happy, right?"

.

Cliff smirks fondly at her logic and ruffles her hair. She tilts her boat and the wick catches fire.

.

"This is for the parents then." Cliff announces, beckoning everyone to join in. Fayt stares as his companions rally together.

"Let's do this for the ones who yelled and spanked us when we were young."

.

"Really Cliff?" Maria drawls and Cliff's eyes lighten. She hasn't talked to him since their conversation at the café.

He is delighted by this and wraps an arm around her shoulders.

.

"Just trying to get into the spirit." Cliff comments cheekily. Maria shoves him and he almost falls into the water.

.

As Nel explains the day of mourning in further detail, Fayt catches a glimpse of an abandoned boat by the tree.

He walks over and picks it up, lifting his gaze to find Albel staring at him intensely.

.

"Will you join us?" Fayt asks, already knowing the answer.

.

"That's an idiotic question."

.

"It doesn't hurt to ask." Fayt shrugs. He carries two boats in his hands,

each of the wicks now alight, while Albel adjusts his position in the tree.

.

"Two boats, greedy, aren't we?" Albel sneers, crossing his arms.

.

"One is for my dad," says Fayt, "and the other is for yours."

.

"What?" Albel straightens his posture, taken aback.

.

"Your dad," starts Fayt, "he was brave and smart, a noble general to his troops.

That's what I've read. That's what I've heard. I think it would be honorable to give him a proper send off."

.

"You have no right to do that."

.

"Your right, I don't." Once again, Albel is surprised by how easily Fayt agrees.

"But I'm going to do it anyway. Not because it's honorable, but because it's something I think you want to do, should do."

Fayt adjusts his grip on the boats and walks to the platform's edge.

He hears feet plant themselves on the grass behind him, but he doesn't turn around nor slow his stride.

.

"And how would you know what I want?"

.

"I'd like to think parents want their children to be happy."

Fayt kneels some ways away from the group. "Even if that means letting them go."

.

"Assumptions like that will give you more hope than you deserve."

.

"But there's still hope isn't there?" Fayt whispers.

.

"Leave it alone." Albel snatches the boat from Fayt's hands and blows out the flame.

"I'll deal with my demons. It has nothing to do with you."

.

"I know it doesn't." Fayt calms down before he thinks to get angry. "Look, Nel said the boats stay afloat during the festival.

They send the boats away on the last day into the afterlife. Send out a boat before then. Please?"

Fayt traces the edge of Albel's metal digit. "Don't do this for me, do it for your dad."

Fayt turns around and kneels, casting his boat into the water, watching it float away.

.

"I don't want to be tied down to the past." Fayt whispers and breathes deeply. "If I can find a bit of solace in doing this,

if letting my father go means a step closer to happiness, then why not do it?" Fayt closes his eyes.

.

"What of your mother?" Albel questions.

.

"I've never been able to find her, even with Sophia and Cliff's help.

I'll probably never know what happened to her." Fayt's nails drag across the dirt, Elicoor sinking into his skin.

"I love her, I do, but something deep in my heart has been telling me I won't ever see her again.

She's far away in a place I can't reach her.

It might be silly, even idiotic to think she and my father are together somewhere in a better place,

but I'll think it anyway." Fayt turns to stare at Albel, eyes glassy, about to break.

"Hope makes us more happy than stupid sometimes."

.


	13. XI Part 2

**********Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**XI**

**Part 2**

.**  
**

Cliff groans in his sleep as a soft and heavy mass sits on his chest.

He tries to swat the mass away, only to realize it has goggles. Wait, that feels like an arm and a leg.

His eyes pop open. Roger sits on top of him, a toothy grin plastered on his face.

On the bedside are two pairs of eyes peeping mischievously at him.

.

"Get. OFF." Cliff shouts are drowned out by Roger and his friends' howling laughter.

They rush out of the house as the elder runs after them, stubbing his toe and tripping over his own feet.

As Cliff bursts through the entry way, he is greeted by men stuffing their faces with cooked meat,

and girls laughing together by a fire roaring on another walkway.

.

"I guess no one warned you when the festivities would start today."

Cliff shifts his head towards Maria, who stares at him, leaning on a wooden poll, a bundle of flowers in her hands.

.

"What time is it?" Cliff groans.

.

"Almost early afternoon." Maria chuckles, placing one of the flowers in Cliff's hair.

He raises an eyebrow at this. "There, now you look like a forest sprite."

.

"That isn't funny." Cliff pouts while he hears giggling.

The girls stare at his broad back, their eyes fluttering with allure. "Seriously?"

.

"I don't think the ladies mind you shirtless," chortles Maria as she watches Cliff pluck the flower from his hair.

.

_Beep, beep, beep._

.

The communicator rings inside the house, muffled yet still able to penetrate the playfulness between them.

.

"Are you going to get that?" Maria questions dully while her fingers tug at flower petals.

They both have a pretty good idea as to who's calling.

.

Cliff doesn't like her sudden mood change. The communicator fortifies the wall being built between them.

He doesn't like this separation.

.

Maria squeaks as Cliff drags her into the house, earning a few cat calls from a group of boys passing by.

.

"Why do you get like that?" Cliff asks softly, crossing his arms, fully awake.

.

"Like what?" Maria questions, placing the flowers gently on the dining table.

.

"Guarded. Tense. I said you can talk to me if something's bothering you."

.

"It's nothing."

.

"It is, so tell me," demands Cliff, watching Maria walk past him into the bedroom,

searching through his belongings, "what are you doing?"

.

"It's Mirage." Maria says after a few moments, holding out his communicator,

which had been placed on the night stand beside his bed.

.

"I can answer it later." She is surprised by his response. He never misses a chance to talk to his fiancé.

He grabs the communicator and tosses it onto his bed.

.

"Is this about Mirage?" Cliff blurts out, searching for answers in the dark.

He doesn't know what makes him say it. Her pupils dilate; he's hit on something she wants to hide.

"Did something happen between you two?"

.

"Don't make assumptions right off the bat without confirming anything." Maria scolds.

.

"You're not denying it though." Cliff retaliates, blocking the doorway. He won't let her leave.

.

"Nothing happened between us, we're fine." She reassures while sitting on the bed,

pulling at sheets with nervous fingers.

.

"Then what's the problem?" Maria knows Cliff will never let this go until he gets some answers.

He will drive her nuts until she breaks down, spilling her guts and confessions everywhere.

She doesn't want that to happen, she wants to keep some part of their friendship intact.

.

"It's something I can't say." Maria admits, avoiding Cliff's gaze to stare at a cluster of cob webs by the cabinet.

.

"Why not?" He sits beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder.

He doesn't like the way their friendship is shrouded with secrets.

.

"It'll screw up everything, ok?" Maria answers exasperatingly, rubbing the sleeves of her jacket.

Cliff tilts his head, not understanding. "Don't ask me what it is; I'm not even sure how to figure this out yet."

.

"Let me help you figure it out." Cliff wishes he knew what _this_ is.

.

"It's fine, really."

.

"You're not fine though." Cliff eyes her biting lips and tired eyes.

.

"Stop pushing the issue." Maria shoves him aside; heading for the door,

only to have Cliff grab her wrist roughly, bringing her close.

.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" Cliff shouts in frustration.

"First its Sophia, then its Fayt, hell, even Albel has his mouth shut about something.

What's with the secrets? Where's the trust?"

.

"What the hell do you want me to say?"

.

"How your feeling!" Cliff responds heatedly. "Your not a kid. I respect you,

but if something's on your mind, say it."

.

"Call off the wedding!" Maria yells. Their eyes widen and Cliff loosens his grip.

Maria takes the chance to pull away, backing into the door.

.

"Um, what?" Cliff says dumbfounded, hands limp at his sides.

.

Her chest vibrates as if another person resides within it; beating on her fleshy walls to be let out.

Her soul wants to run and let her body face Cliff's shocked mouth and surprised blue eyes.

.

"I mean…" She starts off weakly, turning around.

She thinks to open the door but leans her head against it instead. Her fingers snake their way up the wood's grain.

If she could ever be something without eyes, limbs, and a mouth, she would be this door,

only worrying about the click of the lock and being polished from time to time by her owner.

She wouldn't have to feel this pettiness, selfishness, and torture.

.

"You really said that?" Cliff whispers. "Why would you say that?"

She can hear the hurt in his voice, the uncertainty in his footsteps.

He is all things confidant. For him to be this hesitant…she must have really hit a nerve.

.

"I didn't mean it." She speaks to the door, covering her face with her hands. "I was mad, I'm sorry."

.

"You don't want me to marry Mirage?" Cliff regains his composure, gently turning her around,

lifting her chin to stare into her eyes, naked and afraid.

He hasn't seen her this way since the first time he met her, a little girl who just lost her mother,

or the time she used her powers on the Diplo to destroy the Invisible.

.

Maria pulls his hands away from her face and quietly leaves the room.

Cliff doesn't make the effort to follow her.

.

~o~

.

Peppita sits on a fence, flailing her arms, her tiny fists punching at air as the crowd cheers, echoing her enthusiasm.

.

The opponent rolls in the dirt, having gotten out of the way from a sword swipe that would have cut off his leg.

The Sanmite knight charges at him quickly before the opponent can stand.

.

"Get up! Get UP!" Peppita shouts, so excited she falls off the fence and into Fayt's arms.

She smiles sheepishly at him as he positions her upright again.

Sophia sends her a reprimanding gaze before returning her attention to the fight.

.

"Don't get so carried away." Fayt smiles, gripping the fence while standing beside her.

Peppita averts her gaze to find the opponent back on his feet, spinning his club and knocking it into the knight's knees.

.

"Ha ha! That's right, you take him out!" Peppita grins evilly, her shoes tapping against each other.

.

"Do they really call this a fight?" They turn to find Albel eyeing the scene in disdain, arms crossed.

.

"It's for fun Albel, either enjoy it or go somewhere else."

Fayt responds lightly, turning his attention back to the brawl, only to find it over.

The opponent wins, fur matted and tail whipping about happily.

He raises his hands in the air at being the victor, the crowd cheering.

.

Fayt admits fighting matches are fun to watch. If he were back on Earth, and if Peppita were old enough,

he is sure they would be hanging out at a bar, watching a wrestling match on the flat screen

hanging above the rows of bottles lit like a glass rainbow. He smiles at the thought.

.

"Let us show them a real fight." Albel smirks wickedly, hopping over the fence with ease.

.

"I hope you're not asking me to join you." Fayt states flatly.

Albel walks to the center of the field where the pint sized announcer stares at him critically before stepping aside.

A few moments of silence pass until Albel slowly unsheathes the Crimson Scourge,

causing an uproar within the crowd. A few Sanmites push Fayt forward.

.

"Ooooh, this should be fun." Roger jumps in excitement, he sudden arrival frightening Peppita, who punches his arm.

Nel appears beside Sophia, resting her chin in her hand, her elbow sitting on the fence.

.

"Always starting a fight." Nel mutters in aversion.

.

~o~

.

"It's not a good idea to be provoking me like this, you know." Fayt warns teasingly, unsheathing his blade.

.

"I'm in the mood for some entertainment." Albel lifts his sword, spinning it a few times to ready himself.

"Plus, you need to learn some self control." Fayt frowns at the hidden meaning laced between his words.

.

Albel charges and sparks fly as the metals meet. The crowd laughs, placing bets on who will win.

.

Albel leans his weight forward, single handily pressing their swords further into Fayt's face.

After a few moments of strained muscles and narrowed eyes,

Fayt angles his blade horizontally, causing the tip of the Crimson Scourge to almost scratch his face.

He ducks and tumbles out of the way before Albel's blade embeds itself into the ground.

.

Albel smirks, swinging his sword back and forth, leaving Fayt on the defensive.

.

Fayt's insides churn at the thought of blood and sweat sprinkled in dirt,

no matter how many times he's seen dead bodies littering the ground.

.

Attempting to end this fight soon, Fayt runs forward and jumps, landing behind Albel to knock him off his feet.

He doesn't lower quickly enough and Albel's blade nicks him on his temple.

The sight of blood enraptures the crowd, the roars deafening.

Fayt touches his head, the stickiness warm, hot, sizzling, _delicious_.

.

Albel sees the glow in Fayt's eyes and despite their quick movements, Nel sees it as well.

She straightens her posture at Fayt's crouched position, swearing she hears him growl at the crowd, then at her, eyes silted.

He's running on all fours, teeth barred, sharp. Fayt lunges and swipes at her face-

.

Nel gasps, gripping the fence tightly. She blinks a few times before looking at her legs,

surprised to find her Symbology tattoos glowing, the light fading before anyone notices.

She snaps her attention back to the field, where Fayt and Albel continue to fight.

Confused, she loosens her grip. What had that been?

It felt almost as if something was in her body, coaxing her magic forward. She almost feels violated.

.

Albel moves to club Fayt over the head with the hilt of his sword. Fayt however,

blocks the blow with his hand and punches Albel square in the jaw.

Sophia and Peppita gasp, and a few Sanmites shout foul play.

.

Spitting out blood, Albel growls while blocking Fayt's sloppy and erratic attacks. Fayt is usually graceful and clean.

.

"_This certainly isn't him_." Albel thinks as Fayt stumbles on his feet.

.

Albel snatches the opportunity and punches Fayt in the face with his metal fist,

the charred muscles aching and stretching uncomfortably at the action. He will deal with the pain later.

.

Albel can hear the crowd visibly cringe at the knuckle marks oozing blood from Fayt's face.

.

Fayt staggers momentarily from double vision, unable to focus.

He holds his head, unsure of where his cheek is, trying to fight Albel off,

but the heat intensifies, the adrenaline rises, and he's blind.

He can't see amidst the shadows masking the crowd's faces with twisted smiles and leering eyes.

.

His lack of concentration does not go unnoticed by his friends or Albel.

On a last minute decision, Albel swings his leg hard, knocking Fayt off his feet.

Before Fayt has time to recover, Albel points his blade at him, a cruel smile on his lips as the Sanmites cheer.

.

"Winner!" The announcer shouts. Fayt breathes heavily, the taste of blood in his mouth.

He stares at Albel, thinking he will be pleased with himself, but Albel's eyes tell him differently.

.

"It's over, get up maggot." Albel sneers, forcefully lifting Fayt up by his forearm.

Before he pulls away, he draws Fayt close.

"Be careful idiot, you don't want the whole world running away from the face of death."

He whispers, strolling away, sheathing his blade.

Fayt wipes blood from his lips and realizes how much trouble Albel saved him from.

.

Sophia rushes to his side, asking what happened. Fayt shakes her off, stating he felt unusually light headed.

He plasters on a smile but Sophia _tsks _and pulls him away from the buzzing crowd.

Nel's eyes follow them, unsure of what she saw.

.

~o~

.

Sophia and Fayt sit by a well near the entrance to a cave on the outskirts of town.

She squeezes a rag of excess water over a bucket,

bringing it to Fayt's face to clean off the blood while her free hand holds onto his chin.

.

"You didn't have to fight, you know." Sophia says softly, watching the rag dampen red.

.

"Albel would never shut up if I turned down his challenge." Fayt knits his eyebrows,

cringing when Sophia touches one of the knuckle marks on his cheek.

.

"True." Sophia laughs, pulling her hand away. "I'll admit my heart was beating really fast."

She draws closer until their foreheads lean against one another. Fayt stills at her affection,

his hands scrunching the material covering his knees gently. "I was scared you were going to get hurt."

.

"It's no big deal; I can take care of myself. This is nothing compared to the injuries I've gotten before."

Fayt smirks as if to prove his point. Sophia shoves him playfully and closes her eyes.

.

"Still, I can't help feel that way whenever you fight," Sophia sighs audibly;

her fingers trailing down his arm until she reaches his hand, interlacing their fingers together, "every time…"

.

"Sophia." Fayt calls, about to draw away but she holds onto his hand tighter.

.

"Listen." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "I wanted to say something before at the port-"

.

"You don't have to say it now."

.

"I do though."

.

"It-"

.

"I love you." Sophia shushes him, eyes glued to his gloved palm, the fabric worn, the color faded.

A few moments of silence pass. Fayt can feel her heartbeat through her fingers, hot and dizzying.

"I love you." She says louder, pulling away to stare deeply in his eyes, her cheeks flushed.

.

Fayt holds her stare, knowing this was coming,

especially when Cliff dropped hints of her possible feelings for him these past couple of months.

He never thought on how to handle her advances. Honestly, he was hoping she wouldn't say anything.

.

"I really do love you." She laughs quietly, hands clasped around his neck, her head on his shoulder.

"I can't help it. I've been around you most of my life.

I know you so well, but ever since this grand adventure happened, I feel like I don't know you at all."

.

"I'm definitely not me anymore." He utters, gently pulling her away, gripping her shoulders.

.

"I just want you to be happy." She stands, dropping the dirtied rag into the bucket.

"If you come back with me to Earth, I can't help but think you'll be normal again.

We can visit Japan like you always wanted to during spring break. It'll be nice."

.

"Your idea of happiness is completely different from mine." Fayt states firmly.

"I can't go back to school, to my job, or to Earth."

.

"But Earth is our home!"

.

"Not for me, not right now." Fayt shakes his head, rising from his seat.

.

"How can you say that?"

.

"I'm not forsaking everything I've ever come to know there," huffs Fayt,

"I'll never be able to bury the memories I have of Earth, but I can't bury Elicoor either." Fayt curls his fists.

"That would be forgetting Nel and the others, the good deeds I've done for them."

.

"And Albel?" Sophia wonders aloud.

.

"What about him?" Fayt tilts his head, surprised at her sudden question.

.

"When you say Elicoor, do you really mean Albel?" She stares at him critically.

.

"Don't think of it that way Sophia," warns Fayt.

.

"Why not? You have feelings for him, don't you?" She shouts, flustered.

.

"Who told you that?"

.

"It doesn't matter who. I'm right aren't I?"

.

Fayt has never thought he would feel the urge to lie so bad.

He wants to say he loves her too, that they'll scamper off on a space ship,

and forget the Vendeeni and war ever existed, that they're parents aren't dead either.

They're waiting for them in Japan so they can visit hot springs and eat pocky together.

They'll head to college and Fayt will continue to study Symbological Genetics.

They'll graduate and move in together once they have steady jobs.

It'll be just them and the kitten Sophia has always complained about getting.

.

"…Your right." Fayt mutters, drained of lies. "I do love him."

His throat tightens at her softening gaze, her eyes rimmed with hurt.

.

"Oh." Sophia didn't think he'd actually admit it.

She was ready for an argument, but this resignation hurts more than any fight they could have had.

.

"It sort of just…" Fayt stops himself. "I didn't realize I had feelings for him until it was too late."

He rubs his face. "Despite his insults, his harshness, I can't help feel attracted to him.

He's someone I never encountered before." Sophia's eyes are glass grapes, ripe with disbelief.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not here only for him. I have personal matters to sort out too."

Fayt combs his hair with his fingers. "Maybe I'll leave one day, _maybe_, but not right now.

This is where I need to be, this is home."

.

"You won't leave…not even for me?" Sophia asks, drained of_ come back_'s and _be with me_'s. "I'm trying to do what's best for you."

.

"That's the thing." Fayt swallows, grabbing his jacket.

"I've changed too much. You don't know what I need anymore." Fayt heads for the walkway back into town.

"I do love you Sophia; never doubt that for a second. I can never throw away the bond we have.

I just don't love you the way you want me to. I'm sorry; I can't leave, not even for you."

.

Fayt thinks he hears something break as he walks away from the well. He isn't sure if it's the bucket or a broken heart.

.

~o~

.

The walkways of Surferio are a swaying beast, its wooden body snaking and curving around the houses,

the lanterns its eyes, lighting the food Sanmites eat and the dummy swords children play with.

Fayt passes by a girl with a needle in her hand; eyes' squinting by a fire, sewing what seems to be a butterfly on cloth.

His mother liked to sew too.

.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, staring at the water poking through the cracks of the wooden floorboards.

A mermaid swims by, peering at him but not really seeing him. He momentarily appreciates her beauty,

her white hair spider web wisps in the water, her chest glitter bare and her scales florescent green in the light.

He notes her sharp nails as she floats, seemingly enjoying the water on her skin.

He's mesmerized, enjoying moments like these where he isn't apart of the action, but can admire it instead.

He's tired of being in the front line and making decisions. He wants someone to keep him safe,

even if it's only for a bit of time. The mermaid's tail snaps and she darts away.

.

Further down the path, empty of inhabitants, Fayt sees black bobbing behind a few stacked boxes.

Curious, he creeps forward quietly, only to realize the black is hair. He recognizes the hair tails immediately,

halting when his eyes land on a wooden boat in Albel's hands, the wick already lit.

.

He decides to move back, hiding behind a crate covered in nets as he watches his companion intently.

Albel lowers the boat, watching it plop gently on the water.

It wobbles for a few moments before drifting away towards the other boats floating at the center of town.

.

"How eager you are to leave me." Albel drawls,

bending his leg at the knee, the other dangling over the edge of the floorboards.

"Did you sense this day coming? Already had a plan mapped out for when the opportunity arose?"

He speaks to the boat as if his father is really there, drifting further away from him, from his life.

"I guess you would, considering the years you've waited for this moment."

His claw rests on his knee, his hand pressed into the wood to steady himself.

.

"Be off with you then, you don't need me anyhow. I've been nothing but trouble."

Albel hisses, eyebrows furrowed together. He rises, claws clicking against the blade's hilt.

.

"I've wondered," Albel starts, surrounded by a shadow sky with star studded teeth,

his eyes a lunar eclipse, glowing blood red. He's lonelier than Fayt has ever seen him,

"why did you save me from the fire of the dragon,

allowed yourself to burn when I should have been the one to disintegrate?

Did you love me that much?" He whispers bitterly, turning away from the drifting boat.

.

Fayt thinks _too many hearts have broken today_.

.


	14. XI Part 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**XI  
**

**PART 3  
**

.**  
**

Peppita tosses wooden rings, missing the thick poles hammered into planks five times.

Her pouting causes the stall owner to take pity on her, and he places a flower in her hair for her efforts.

.

Cliff and Peppita decided to participate in the festival games floating on the water beside the walkways.

She attempted to haul Albel along for the venture, but he was adamant to brood by the caves,

practicing with the Crimson Scourge as a boy watched him in fascination.

Cliff had to hold Albel back from ripping the furry ears off the boy when he tried to touch his sword.

.

Now Peppita cheers as Cliff slams down the fist of his fourth opponent in an arm wrestling match,

a satisfied smirk on his lips as he receives two meals on the house as his prize.

Peppita drags him to the food carts in the center of town,

rows of hay and logs set out for the festival goers to sit on.

She forgets she is on a different planet when she tries a local rice dish called _Paella_.

The rice is tangy and salty, the chicken sweet, and the vegetables tasting like tangerines and butter.

She munches and smiles, she likes this.

.

"How's your food?" Peppita calls, giggling at Cliff's puffy cheeks.

He gives a thumbs up before swallowing.

.

"The meat has a smoky flavor; you can really tell it's cooked on a pit."

Cliff explains, drumming his fingers on his knee.

.

"I'd like to see you cook one day," laughs Peppita.

.

"Not unless you want your dish served in either three ways: undercooked, burnt, or mushy."

Cliff responds lightheartedly. "You should ask Maria instead, she-"

He pauses, slowly placing his utensil on the plate.

.

"Maria what? Does she know how to cook?" Her smile fades when he doesn't respond. "Cliff?"

.

"…She started making us lunch after living on the Diplo for a few months.

It was simple things at first; coffee, sandwiches, even cookies. Then she started getting elaborate."

Cliff chuckles, remembering Maria's tied back hair and flour stained face,

hovering over a huge bowl of brown batter, littered with too many chocolate chips and bananas.

She had been upset at Mirage for taking her concoction away. "She liked experimenting.

She told me once her mother was into baking, she learned it from her."

.

"Aw, that's nice." Peppita coos, taking a sip of…she isn't really sure what it is.

It has a bitter taste but she is thirsty. "Dulcinea makes our meals,

but she taught me how to cook a few things."

.

"You don't seem like the cooking type." Cliff teases. Peppita pokes him with the back of her spoon.

.

"What else did Maria bake?"

.

"I'll ask Mirage to teach you." Cliff states abruptly. "Maybe you can spend a few days with us-"

.

"What's wrong?" Peppita interrupts, placing her plate on the ground, fully turning to face him.

.

"Wrong?"

.

"You ignored my question and you're kinda spacing out." Peppita huffs, her hands situated on her hips.

.

"It's nothing to worry about; just a little disagreement is all."

Cliff reassures, forgetting how perceptive she is for her age.

.

"You mean you got into a fight with Maria?"

.

"Not exactly. We just have differing views on something,

and the conversation went down hill because of it."

.

"Oh…Did you say sorry?"

.

"Me?" Cliff is about to whine and blame Maria for starting the argument first, but he bites his tongue instead.

"In this situation, it's not simple to say sorry."

.

"You just said it wasn't a big deal!" Peppita wiggles her nose.

.

"She doesn't want me to marry Mirage."

Cliff blurts out, surprisingly comfortable in admitting his worry. Her eyes widen.

.

"Oh." Peppita looks to the ground, unsure of what to say. "_Oh_."

.

"Yeah." Cliff smiles faintly, wrapping an arm around Peppita's shoulders and bringing her close.

"I don't understand why she said it, but I'm going to find out. I've known her for years;

I don't want to lose her. She's a one of a kind friend." Cliff explains.

"She needs to cool down; she's hot tempered sometimes."

.

Peppita nods along to his words, biting her lips.

.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked." _What an awful thing for someone to say_, she thinks.

.

"It's ok. Thanks for worrying. You're a bright kid, your parents would be proud of you."

Peppita beams at his words. "Just don't tell anyone what I said ok, between us?"

Cliff presses a finger to his lips playfully and Peppita does the same.

.

~o~

.

"The city has been quiet," states Clair while leaning against a wooden pole underneath the walkway,

her foot tapping on the water's surface. Nel stands above her,

gaze wondering aimlessly as if she doesn't recognize the presence beneath her.

.

"That's troubling and a relief at once," responds Nel, arms crossed loosely.

.

"I suppose." Clair shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"I had a discussion with the queen's doctor."

.

"And?"

.

Clair lifts her eyes, staring at the discolored wood.

.

"She tells me she found another commonality between the bodies we've been collecting around the city,

from Peterny, even as far as Kirsla." Clair's shoe is soaked but she doesn't seem to mind.

"She senses a trace of magical energy within the bodies."

.

"Runology?"

.

"Possibly. It would answer why there weren't any wounds.

With a bit of time, she can probably lift a magic signature from the traces left behind.

If she can, we can pinpoint the kind of magic being used."

.

"Our country is known to have an abundance of magic wielders;

it could be anyone despite the discovery of a signature."

.

"It will narrow down the list of suspects and it does bring into focus new persons of interests."

.

"Such as?" Nel questions; weary of Clair's sudden serious tone.

.

"You won't like it."

.

Nel jumps languidly towards the ground, feet splashing in the water, staring at Clair critically.

.

"How long have we known each other?

There hasn't been a time I can recall where you gave me any kind of warning during a debriefing."

Nel observes. "What is it?"

.

"I'm not supposed to say this," Clair wrinkles her eyebrows,

"but I will anyway. I think you should be warned. The queen has me collecting intelligence on your friends."

.

"For what purpose?" Nel asks in surprise.

.

"She doesn't want you to get involved.

She suspects the incidents in the city and the visit of your companions aren't coincidental-"

.

"Bull." Nel interrupts, eyes narrowed. "I know she's been troubled by their presence,

but does she really think they would have something to do with it?

Why would Fayt or any of them have reason to kill anyone, especially since they saved the universe?"

.

"Please be calm." Clair says gently, placing her hand on Nel's arm.

"She's trying to defend our country. Think about it Nel. What would you do if you were in her position?

Considering their past history together, wouldn't you feel just an inkling of suspicion?"

She reasons, feeling Nel relax beneath her touch.

.

"It does make sense." Nel begrudgingly admits, even though, deep in her heart,

she can not find it in herself to suspect her friends of any form of betrayal.

This situation feels wrong and she can't grasp as to why.

.

"I'm glad you're taking this news better than I thought."

Clair coughs upon glancing at Nel's skeptical glare.

.

"I'll report back once I have returned to the city."

.

Clair nods in agreement and trudges quietly from the trench beneath the bridge.

Before she leaves, Nel grabs her arm.

.

"Thank you for telling me," says Nel. Clair smiles softly and turns to walk away again,

only to have Nel pull her back. "Please keep in mind though; your loyalties must first be to our queen,

not to me. Don't let personal feelings hamper your judgment."

.

"You should have thought of that yourself before you entered the service."

Clair states simply, wiggling her arm out of Nel's grasp.

"Out of all the people we have entered into service with,

we seem to be one of the few who forgot to leave their emotions behind

once we swore an oath to the Holy Mother." Clair closes her eyes.

"It's too late to abandon our emotions; we're in too deep already."

.

~o~

.

Peppita clasps Sophia's hand tightly and walks besides Cliff.

She points to the fish swimming around a mermaid in the water,

a few children clapping as her tail snaps upward, splashing them.

A few boys bump into them, rushing in excitement, waving sticks in the air,

chasing after a Menodix with something shiny grasped close to his chest.

Peppita scolds, shaking her fist for show before continuing to pass by a rowdy group of Menodix men.

They hold a contest to see who can hold their breath under water the longest.

.

Peppita smiles and gazes at Sophia's distraught eyes.

She had found Sophia huddled in bed earlier that morning before meeting up with Cliff.

Peppita had pulled the covers away, only to find them wet while Sophia rubbed her face,

and asked what was wrong. Peppita knew she had been crying and decided to leave her alone.

.

She found Sophia in the same position a few hours later and huffed,

forcing her to get dressed to join her and Cliff.

.

"Let's sit here." Peppita demands,

settling Sophia and Cliff on a stack of hay beside a woman fussing with a little girl's hair.

Peppita sways her feet, watching Sanmites walk by, the crowd growing larger with the passing hour.

.

"Maybe we should move somewhere else, it's starting to get packed." Sophia comments, voice strained.

.

"I like that it's busy." Peppita responds, bobbing her head from side to side.

"The noise shuts things you don't want to think about out, don't you think?"

Sophia raises an eyebrow at her statement, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. "Sophia…"

.

"Hmm?"

.

"I'll be leaving tomorrow." Peppita pouts,

liking the brittle and coarse texture of the hay digging into her fingers.

"I wanna make sure when I leave, everyone is ok, you know?"

.

"What do you mean?" Cliff joins in, intrigued.

.

"Are you ok?" Peppita directs her question to Sophia, tapping her shoes on the planks.

"I mean, it's not my business, but you were crying earlier. I've never seen you that sad before."

.

"You were crying? What's wrong?" Cliff leans sideways, observing Sophia's face.

.

Sophia frowns and combs her hair with her fingers.

She didn't mean for anyone to see her caked in tears and miserable.

Although, in that moment of crying, she realized she hadn't cried for the misfortune of her parents,

for the war, for that bit of normalcy she lost despite her college academics and new friends on Earth.

She cried for everything she forgotten to and cried for those who forgot to cry,

for Peppita, for Fayt, even for Albel.

.

_"I've changed too much. You don't know what I need anymore." _

.

Fayt's comment had struck a nerve in her more than his rejection.

She hated feeling useless, unable to help anyone.

They all fought the same war, learned to care for themselves without the comforting hugs,

the morning kisses, and the reassuring hand squeezes.

.

She will have to take her hugs and kisses somewhere else.

.

"I'm fine." Sophia rolls her shoulders, releasing a tense sigh. "I didn't realize I had a lot on my mind."

.

"Me too." Peppita says. "I'm worried about uncle and the troupe,

but I know they can take care of themselves without me around.

I'm more worried about you guys."

.

"Why is that? For a kid, you worry about things that don't concern you."

Sophia comments, her eyes widening a bit. "I mean, don't take that the wrong way."

.

"I'm not a kid." Peppita defends, sticking her tongue out teasingly.

"Everyone's so busy looking sad. I worry because I love you all."

She pouts, kicking her feet up, almost tripping a man walking past her.

.

"I'm sure Sophia's fine. Sometimes we just have our off days."

Cliff says, staring intently at Sophia, a _we'll talk later_ evident in his eyes.

.

"And kids don't?" Peppita retaliates.

.

"I thought you said you weren't a kid?" Sophia points out in amusement.

.

"That's beside the point." Peppita waves her hand dismissively.

"I'll miss you guys once I leave. Promise you'll come to one of my shows?"

She pleads, clasping Sophia's hands imploringly.

.

"Sure." Sophia smiles genuinely.

.

~o~

.

_**He carried a bundle in his arms and walked into the woods,**_

_**mindful of twigs snapping beneath his boots,**_

_**the rustling of leaves on fabric as he distanced himself from the village.  
**_

.

_**He halted suddenly near an indentation in the ground.**_

_**He set the bundle down and a hand tumbled from the fabric.**_

.

_**He was never sure if the creature was a boy or a man.**_

.

Fayt's eyes snap open. He sits crossed legged on the floor inside the guest house,

a blue candle placed in front of him. He tilts his head and his hands drop to his sides, nails scraping against the floor.

.

Fayt feels calmer ever since he decided to try these new meditation practices in secret.

It has given him clarity, realizing he hasn't given his dreams better attention than he should have.

Fayt thought his powers manifested in his dreams due to suppression.

Thinking on it now, he is sure an underlying message threads it's way through his unconsciousness.

He has to find the meaning.

.

"_I could use some guidance dad_." Fayt thinks.

Ever since he watched the wooden boat float away, he felt more naked than he thought he would.

A pressure on his chest was relieved somewhat, as if his parents had left him, _really_ left him.

He never imagined a life without them.

.

_**Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.**_

.

The light on the candle flickers, dies, and his back itches.

.

_**Tick. Tick. Tick.**_

.

He squeezes his eyes shut and leans forward, fists white on the floor.

The itching intensifies, the ticking loud in his ears. He wonders if he'll explode if the ticking ever stops.

.

_**Tick...Tick...Tick...Tick...Tick...**_

.

This is the one thing Fayt can't seem to escape from, despite his recent efforts to control his powers.

.

He takes a few deep breaths, adjusting to the pain until he can straighten his posture.

He rubs his thighs to distract himself. He hasn't dealt with this side of the issue in quite some time.

.

"_I need to deal with this tonight_," Fayt thinks, "_before I cause an accident_."

.

~o~

.

Albel's surprised no one takes notice of Fayt slipping away when the boats are released into the underwater cavern,

the wicks long dead of fire, vanishing into darkness.

He ignores Roger's father, who chants a prayer and bids farewell to the souls of the dead.

.

Albel takes note of the gloomy expressions on the crowds' faces.

It reminds him of home, of grimacing lips wrapped in blankets of snow when the battle was won or lost,

endless pairs of eyes frozen with ice, watching a parade of bodies hidden beneath gray furs and leather cords.

He thinks of empty graves in the mountains, the dirt frosty and the pain hot.

Peppita is out of place in this crowd, her expression calm, serene even.

She leaves Albel somewhat haunted. She is a person Albel doesn't want to understand,

with her upbeat energy and too-wise-for-her-age eyes.

.

He lifts an eyebrow and growls. He jumps from his place in the tree,

deciding to get away before he starts to think of his father.

.

The mere stray thought causes Albel to pause.

He twists his head, staring at the boats sinking into the water. Can he really say goodbye?

.

~o~

.

Peppita watches Albel slip away, unsurprised as it starts drizzling.

He never is one to stick around till the end when it comes to ceremonies.

She gazes at Maria, at her strained face and knitted eyebrows, deep in thought,

at her jacket sleeves, a small hole in the elbow, at her hands, clenched and tight.

Frowning, Peppita steps closer and grabs Maria's fingers until they uncurl.

Maria gazes at her in question, receiving a calm smile in return.

.

Peppita rocks on her heels, leans forward and grasps Roger's hand.

She is surprised when he doesn't pull away. He grins lopsidedly at her instead, mouthing _thanks _in return.

.

~o~

.

Albel checked the village and caves for signs of Fayt.

He has been looking for almost half an hour, still unable to locate him.

Annoyed, he leaves the village through the main entrance. Rock ridges fall away into a dense forest.

His eyes adjust to the night, reflexively holding the sword's hilt as a precaution.

Paths glow dirtied oranges from torch lights hanging from poles.

.

After wandering for some time, his eyes narrow as he comes to a slow halt, dust settling around his boots.

A light, appearing and disappearing at once, catches his attention.

It's barely visible through the branches, distant even, but he sees it dissipate into sparks of electricity.

.

Tensing his shoulders, Albel moves slowly through the foliage,

bending forward to avoid being hit by the larger branches.

He relies on his sense of smell, inhaling moss, dew, and damp burnt firewood.

The light appears softer in glow than he thinks it would be.

.

He straightens his posture as the bushes fall away, stepping into a small clearing.

He picks up on silhouettes swaying in the trees. He twists his head and gazes upward,

the tree above him hanging low with apples. He pulls at one, but not enough for it to snap off the branch.

It's green, smooth, and smells sweet. Ripe. Perfect.

.

His gaze levels and he sees it, the tinted blue grasses, the rocks, and Fayt,

who sits on a boulder, head leaning on his crossed arms over bent legs, breathing deeply.

.

The enormity of the wings sprouting from his back is what really catches Albel off guard.

.

They're dense and stark white, as if bolts of fabric piled on top of each other,

the ends fraying, wisps of thread feathers falling to the ground.

They tangle into the staggering tall trees and curve to encase Fayt, but not completely blocking him from view.

His arms are paler than normal, covered in Symbology tattoos glowing gently in the night.

.

"I guess I didn't walk far enough from the path." Fayt barely whispers.

He lifts his head slowly to stare at Albel, his face pulsing blue veins, his eyes eerie flashlights in the darkness.

.

"I must admit." Albel says slowly, almost coyly, after a long silence. "I wasn't expecting this."

.

Fayt smiles bitterly, sitting up straighter, his wings extending further.

Ripped leaves fall to the ground and branches break.

.

"If anyone knows about this, they'd know about the instability of my powers.

I don't want to deal with questions." Fayt mutters, avoiding Albel's gaze.

"It's painful to keep these wings contained for a long period of time."

.

"That's why your back _really_ itches." Albel walks closer,

watching the drizzle leave Fayt lightly soaked and shining, a porcelain mannequin.

.

"If I could walk around with these wings out all day, I would,

the pressure is suffocating sometimes." He musters the courage to gaze at Albel,

who looks at him with a guarded stare. He cringes at the expression and brings his wings forward,

hoping to block Albel from sight.

.

"Don't look at me like that." Fayt bites his lip; gaze stuck on the pebbles by the boulder's edge.

He feels ashamed for having wings, for being an anomaly within the normal,

of being detached from his rag tag family of friends.

He isn't like them, he isn't like anyone.

.

"What is so different about me looking at you now then before?"

Albel questions in annoyance, his voice closer then Fayt thinks it should be.

He quickly glances up to find Albel encased with him inside his wings,

still enough room for him to comfortably stand. "You're not the only one with an abnormality."

Fayt would hate to assume Albel is trying to make him feel better.

.

Fayt's eyes widen as buckles clink and slide. He stares in shock at Albel's exposed arm,

still not fully used to seeing the marred flesh.

.

"Satisfied? Now you don't have to feel so ugly." Albel states flatly, letting the gauntlet drop to the ground.

.

"Idiot." Fayt scrunches his eyebrows, eyes soft, a bit put off by the comment.

He extends his fingers, just a few inches away from touching the scarred flesh.

"You're far from ugly." Albel snorts in refusal but says nothing more.

.

"Tell me something." Fayt lifts himself off the boulder to stand face to face with his companion.

"Your father saved you from some kind of fire when you were younger.

That's why you think you killed him, right?"

.

Albel stares at Fayt sternly, wondering where his hypothesis comes from. The silence continues and Fayt sighs.

.

"Will you tell me about it some time?" Fayt grasps Albel's charred hand.

He hopes Albel needs the reassuring touch just as much as he does. "Someday?"

.

"What exactly are you?" Albel asks, avoiding the questions he doesn't think he'll ever be able to answer.

"These wings, are they natural for people like you?"

.

"No," chuckles Fayt, "this was never originally apart of me, my father's experiments gave me these."

.

It is then a memory strikes Albel and he is back on the tattered battle fields during the Elicoorian War.

He remembers the engineered canons, the fallen bloodied dragons of the brigades,

and a young girl appearing from Fayt's body.

He remembers her dress fluttering, her arms lifting,

her wings extending until foreign symbols electrified the air like blue fireworks,

sending a massive beam of light to destroy ships, soldiers, and Fayt's perception of his existence.

.

"Recently, I've been feeling different, more so than usual."

Fayt backs away, carefully sitting on the boulder, eyes never leaving Albel.

"It's a good change though. I'm not sure how to describe it."

Fayt's hand lingers on a feather, pulling at it gently.

"I'm letting you know because I need you to promise me something."

.

The drizzling lifts and the clearing is motionless, holding it's breath as the pair pause.

.

"You're asking the wrong person for promises."

.

"Just listen, please? I'm being serious." Fayt whines lightly, frowning.

Albel waves his hand, indicating to continue. "Even though I feel better,

there's still room for something to happen. If I lose control," Fayt bites his lips,

"if I can't be me anymore, I want you to…take care of me."

.

Albel tightens his hold on his sword.

.

"In what way?" He asks, knowing what Fayt means. A part of him doesn't want to hear the answer.

.

"I think you know." Fayt states flatly, rubbing his back.

"I don't know if I'm asking for a lot, you've done it so many times before."

Fayt cringes, disliking his words. "Just know that it's fine…if you need to protect the others from me."

.

"Why ask me? I'm sure your companions will be able to assist you more than I can."

Albel glowers, crossing his arms.

.

"I don't want my friends involved in this. I want them to be safe."

.

"If they're your _friends_, what does that make _me_?" Albel questions and lifts an eyebrow.

.

"You're a person I trust completely to make the right decision." Fayt answers with no hesitation.

"You know how I feel about you. What makes you suspect I think of you anything less than a friend?"

.

Albel admits Fayt has a point.

.

"What makes you think I can handle the burden of holding another person's life in my hands?"

.

"You've done it before."

.

"This is different you idiot. Warriors who decide to fight with the intention to kill

leave their choices outside the battlefield with only two fates awaiting them when the battle ends:

killed or be killed. It's a matter of survival with no other choice. You have options."

.

"And I'm running out of them."

.

"It doesn't change the point that your options still exist."

.

"I thought you would be more accepting of this…"

.

Albel narrows his eyes dangerously, strides forward, and forces Fayt to stand while grabbing his chin.

.

"Because I appear fucking heartless, that I entertain the thoughts of other people's deaths for fun?

I take no pleasure in useless killings, despite what anyone thinks; I play fair when I need to."

Albel snaps. "There is no honor in killing when it is unnecessary."

.

"Then what do you deem this situation?"

.

"Ridiculous, that is one thing." Albel replies. "The choices you have made are the wrong ones.

Silly meditations won't solve anything-Yes; I know what you've been up to.

I know more than I lead one to believe-" He leans closer, grinding his teeth,

"-it's just another way to suppress what you should be facing head on."

.

"Am I wrong here too then?" Fayt shouts, refusing to drown in Albel's smoldering gaze.

.

"Yes, you are."

.

"Then what should I do since your _all knowing_?" Fayt continues heatedly. Albel snatches him,

holding his wrist to his chest, his face partially in Fayt's hair.

He wraps an arm around Fayt's waist to keep him from struggling.

.

"I am no where near all knowing, you maggot. Consider what I am saying with reason."

Albel whispers heatedly. "I will only keep this promise when absolutely no options are left."

.

"Al-"

.

"Quiet." Albel says sternly. "If you think of this again, you better come to me."

.

"What're you going to do?" Fayt is surprised to find Albel's lips ghosting over his own.

.

"I'm going to beat you until you can't think of such stupidity again."

Albel answers against his lips, allowing Fayt this small pleasure, and a after a few moments, pulls away.

.

"You don't want me to die?" Fayt says breathlessly, almost disbelievingly.

Albel walks towards the trees, grabbing an apple and biting into it harshly. Sweet. Ripe. Perfect.

.

"…No." Albel replies and picks up his gauntlet, throwing the apple to Fayt,

who catches it clumsily, before disappearing into the forest.

.


	15. XII

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean. **

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**XII**

.

Fayt hikes his back pack on his shoulder, scratching behind his ear as the wind picks up.

He stands outside the guest house, eyeing quiet paper lanterns and confetti floating in the water.

A few Sanmites carry bags, their sticks poking into garbage spotted along the pathways.

Others row in boats downstream, their tents and wares packed away in burlap bundles.

Fayt can only imagine how messy the main square is. He feels the urge to help clean up,

but realizes he has a boat to catch that cannot be missed. At least he made his bed before leaving.

.

Sighing, Fayt bends his back in a stretch. His sleep had been more peaceful since exerting some pent up energy trapped in his body.

Honestly, Fayt is glad to have one less person to worry about sneaking from when his inner demons need some relief.

Out of anyone discovering his wings, he is grateful it had been Albel who stumbled upon him in the clearing.

Despite his temper and foul mouth, Albel has a way with secrecy, he honors trust.

.

Fayt replays Albel's words from last night, and wonders if they were a hidden resolution to protect Fayt from himself.

.

"_We can protect each other from ourselves_." Fayt thinks, unsure if he finds comfort in the thought.

.

"-ou're ignoring me." Cliff pouts, dragging Fayt out of his thoughts.

Cliff leans his crossed arms on the window sill, a leisurely grin on his face.

.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you the first time."

Fayt sits his pack by the barrels hugging the wall, smiling at Cliff's untamed bed hair.

.

"What were you thinking about?" Cliff asks.

.

"Nothing important."

.

"You sure?"

.

"If you think pretty rainbows and ice cream are important, then yes, that's what I was thinking of."

Fayt states seriously, earning a snort from Cliff, who throws his bag out the window, hitting Fayt's leg.

The youngest of the pair glares, only to find Cliff walking through the entrance instead of leering at him by the sill.

He doesn't remember Cliff moving that fast before.

.

"Say, have you talked to Maria lately?"

Cliff asks with a playful lilt in his tone, de-emphasizing the question's importance.

.

"Not about anything worth mentioning, why?" Fayt responds.

.

"She just seems...off lately."

.

"Really? I haven't noticed." Fayt says, leaning against the door frame. "Did something happen?" He continues in concern.

.

"Not exactly." Cliff rolls the words off his tongue.

"You think you could do me a favor?" Fayt nods, his curiosity peaked.

Cliff isn't one for asking favors, not unless the circumstances are dire.

"You think you can talk to her for me? Just to see if she's ok?"

.

"Um, yeah I can do that." Fayt replies as Cliff claps him on the shoulder,

picks up his pack, and walks ahead of him. "Is everything ok between you two?"

.

"Yeah, well, maybe." Cliff laughs. "Thanks." He calls before facing forward, his eyebrows drooping.

He feels tired for all the wrong reasons. He had fun at the festival, and yet, there is Maria,

and then there is him, waiting for her twelve-year-old smile to greet him on the deck of the Diplo,

waiting for her to ask if he wanted coffee with three sugars and a toasted bagel with melted butter dripping down the sides.

His lids lower. That little girl doesn't exist anymore. In her place is a 20-year-old too young to be overburdened with pain.

It feels a bit irrational on his part to take fault for who she has become, but he can't help it,

especially with the responsibilities he pushed on her.

~o~

Roger knocks his feet loudly on the tree stump he sits on, his fingers drumming against rough bark, his eyes glued to the bells jingling on Peppita's shoes.

He doesn't remember seeing anything as polished as those bells, the morning shine intense like Peppita's concentration.

She balances on top of a wooden fence, one leg sticking out in front of her, arms raised to her sides. She looks ready to fly.

.

Annoyed, Roger takes his axe and sways it gently, the soft _thunk_ against the bark distracting him.

He doesn't like when his heart pushes against his chest when Peppita's around.

He doesn't like how aware he becomes when she forces him to hold hands or bump shoulders as they walk.

He remembers his father speaking of similar feelings when he was around his mother the first time they met.

Roger refuses to associate anything that reveals he might have a small crush on Peppita.

It's the most ludicrous thought he can possibly think of, aside from his rival gang claiming to be the manliest out of their tribe.

.

Roger has a motto to warn himself against such frivolities:

_Love is for idiots, power is for men, and treasure is for me!_

._  
_Snickering, Roger squares his shoulders and places his axe on the hook hanging off his back.

He is about to march up to Peppita and tell her he's sorry, he doesn't have any feelings for her, until a hand settles on his shoulder.

He looks to find inquiring blue eyes and huffs, placing his hands on his small hips.

.

"Let's leave on good terms, hmm?" Maria offers a warm smile.

.

"What'da think I was gonna do?" Roger asks innocently.

Maria sits in his previous position on the stump, stretching her legs, her palms digging into her knees.

She thinks the warning look in her eyes says enough to quell whatever temptations towards trouble he was about to act on.

.

"Thank you for inviting us to the festival, I enjoyed myself." Maria comments, noting how Roger's gaze never leaves Peppita.

"_What is he thinking of?_" She wonders.

.

Roger shrugs and holds his tail, picking out blades of grass stuck there.

What had possessed him to invite this strange group of companions, essentially, to his mother's funeral?

It isn't as if he doesn't have any friends of his own, but he furrows his eyebrows and knows his friends have nothing and everything to do with this.

He felt much more respected and manlier in Fayt's company than with his buddies in town.

Their shared battles, struggles, and occasional pranks during their quest to save the universe had made the playing grounds more even.

He felt he had a fighting chance to actually be listened to.

.

"Roger?" Maria beckons him back from his thoughts. He stares at her puzzled before a huge grin spreads across his face.

Maria said it will be ok, and even with her leaving with Peppita and Fayt, he will manage, despite the twinge of loneliness.

As long as he doesn't break his communicator again, he should be fine.

.

"_Finally_, you lazy bums took tooo long!" Roger scolds, watching the rest of the group approach the Village Elder's house.

Albel swings down from his perch in the trees, startling him. How long had he been there?

.

"I guess we're all ready to head out then?" Fayt asks.

A hand tugs at his wrist and he looks to find Peppita staring at him with wide eyes.

.

"Hey, no sad faces, we'll see each other soon, ok?" Fayt says and pats her head affectionately.

.

"I wanted to leave with all of you." Peppita pouts, crossing her arms.

.

"Have you forgotten your family? I'm hurt."

.

The group turns to find a stout man swinging a cane, his top hat glistening like black satin ribbons. He wiggles his beard; eyes squinting as he lifts his hat in greeting.

Peppita chirps and dashes towards her uncle, Piccolotto, giving him a gentle hug despite her excitement. He almost falls, being squished by her thin arms.

.

"Now, now, what's this you wanting to stay? You don't like your family anymore?" Her uncle frowns playfully, wagging his stick at the others.

.

"Nothing like that, I'll just miss them!" Peppita giggles.

.

"As long as you miss me more." Piccolotto chuckles.

Fayt's eyes soften at the scene, watching Peppita's face glow at the attention. It's nice to see someone with family.

.

"Not to be the one to break the mood, but we must be off if we want to catch our intended ferry."

Nel calls while sharpening her blade. Fayt nods while Peppita sticks her tongue out at Nel.

.

"I want a hug before you go." Cliff demands, arms outstretched as Peppita hurries towards him.

She places her arms around his neck and he lifts her off the ground, squeezing as much love from her tiny embrace as he can. He'll miss this.

.

"Behave, kid. Don't cause your uncle too much trouble." Cliff warns, putting her down, but Peppita doesn't let go.

.

"I won't." Peppita grins and places a quick kiss on his cheek before whispering, "you'd make a really cool dad!"

.

She scampers off to hug the others and while she demands attention from Albel,

who climbs back up the tree away from her puckered lips wrinkling like dried cherries,

Cliff stares stunned. No one has ever called him dad before;

having children of his own has always been the farthest thing from his mind.

It makes him miss the simpler things in life before there ever were upgrades to electronics and diplomatic affairs to worry about.

.

"Let's hurry along now. I can't keep the ship's camouflage function on for too long.

It has a glitch ever since Gonnella messed with the controls." Piccolotto's fussing returns Cliff from his musings.

.

Cliff waves farewell, lighthearted despite the things about to fall apart in his life.

.

After Peppita and her uncle disappear through the caves, Roger coughs loudly and stretches, catching everyone's attention.

.

"It's nice having you stay and all, but you guys gotta go. I have treasure hunting to do."

Everyone rolls their eyes at this, picks up their bags, and heads towards the bridge at the entrance into town.

Cliff pats his shoulder while Sophia warns him about taking care of his communicator. As Roger watches Nel lead the way, Maria turns to face him.

Roger thinks he's about to get another scolding until Maria smiles gently at him.

.

"Take care of yourself, ok? Don't make your mother worry too much. I'm sure she's watching over you still." Maria comments before turning around.

.

Roger stands there, unable to come up with a witty comment. He looks to the ground, eyeing the tip of his blade digging into the dirt.

It needs to be polished, the bandages on the handle needs to be retied. He shrugs and walks away, climbing the steps to his house.

.

"Are you happy for me mom?" Roger whispers, scrutinizing the spider webs on the front door. "It's ok to say I miss you, right?"

Maria said everything will be ok. He wants to believe her.

~o~

Albel lounges on the returning ship to Aquaria, examining ridges in the rock formations while rubbing the sword's hilt.

He thinks of feathers threading between his fingers. The feathers turn blue, they're hair, Fayt's hair, and the image fades as quickly as it comes.

He stands by the wooden rail to look at the roiling waters below. It reminds him of his training days, of his first time riding a ship,

of his father standing behind him, pointing to the faint mountains peeking through distant islands, telling him what they were called, what the names meant.

.

Albel's hair tickles his cheeks and he scrunches his nose. He turns and walks towards the ship's center.

His thoughts have been drifting to the naive boy he was before his father died, and he cannot help think how similar that boy is to Fayt,

at first thirsty for adventure, but eyes too smeared with blood to be able to stand looking at a body anymore. He learned to cope, just as Fayt has.

.

Albel takes his time looking around, hoping to spot Fayt amidst the crew members and other travelers, but he can't seem to find him anywhere.

.

"Looking for someone?" A voice calls and Albel finds Sophia with her delicate eyes and lax lips.

.

Albel snorts in response and heads back to the rail, propping his back on the post, feet digging into the wood, his hand dangling over the edge.

Sophia approaches him despite his aloofness, arms crossed behind her, wringing knots into her sweater.

.

"Fayt's below-"

.

"What makes you think I would be looking for that ignorant maggot?"

Albel hisses quickly, his attention directed towards the wet and mossy boulders by the water's edge.

.

"Because he loves you." Sophia states simply. Albel quickly masks his surprise, but allows a thin eyebrow to rise.

He has known Sophia to be pushy, but never blunt. "Because you love him?"

.

"Ridiculous." Albel whispers, shaking his head as if the notion has never crossed his mind.

.

"Please." Albel backs away from Sophia, who invades his personal space. "Tell me you love him."

.

"Why would I even think to say such a pointless thing?"

.

"Love isn't pointless."

.

"There isn't any room for it anywhere in the world, especially during war."

.

"But we're not at war." Sophia points out, eyes furrowing in frustration.

.

"Life is a constant war, idiot. You only cling to the emotions that help you survive."

.

"Life's a war when you can't stop hating yourself." Sophia whispers, staring at the splotches of water between the banisters.

Albel snaps his head around to stare at her, a bit put off in not expecting her to say the one thing he thinks often to himself.

For her young age, she already seems extremely tired, Albel observes, her eyes not the sparkling fireworks they once were when they first met.

And this is how everyone becomes after seeing death, Albel thinks, less bright and stunning.

.

"Why would you think he holds any sort of feelings for me?" Albel questions. Sophia's eyes widen upon realizing what she has just revealed.

It isn't her place to be in anyone's personal business but she has to know.

.

"He told me." Sophia squeaks, pulling at her sleeves. "I shouldn't have said anything. I thought maybe you already knew,

but…If you do have feelings for him, even though that's hard for me to imagine, let him know how you feel soon."

.

"Excuse me?"

.

"Please."

.

"Why?"

.

"I don't want his feelings for you to go to waste." She finally admits. "I've loved him for so long, but he doesn't love me. He made that clear."

Sophia smiles bitterly. "It's selfish to think, but if you don't have feelings for him, let him get over you, maybe then he'll want to come home."

.

"Is that what this is? You want me to be a part of some ploy to spirit him away from here?"

.

"Don't twist my words." Sophia fires back heatedly, looking around to make sure no one pays attention to them. "I just want him to be happy. Is that a lot to ask?"

.

"Yes, it is." Albel deadpans, turning away from her defeated gaze.

~o~

They reach Aquios without further squabbles or incidents.

The crewmen tie ropes to secure the ship as the group grab their belongings from the porter.

Nel excuses herself as soon as she steps onto the docks, Clair waiting for her by the stairs.

Despite the journey, the rest of the group agrees to lunch in the city before returning to the castle.

Albel doesn't join them and disappears through the crowd.

~o~

Maria scoffs silently to herself as Cliff directs them to a café the pair had previously visited.

She stares at Cliff wearily and wonders exactly what he is trying to say by bringing them, _her_ here.

.

"_Maybe I'm looking into this too much_." Maria thinks.

.

The discussion is quiet, awkward as the waitress brings tea, pastries, and simple sandwiches for them to munch on.

Maria avoids Cliff, opting to converse with Sophia, asking if she purchased anything during the festival.

Fayt notices and points his questioning gaze towards Cliff, who shrugs. Maybe this hasn't been the best idea.

.

It's more than an hour later, when most of the food is gone, that a group of guards come marching,

startling the other patrons scattered around tables at the café.

They surround Fayt and the others, their breast plates gleaming new and clean of dents in the afternoon sun.

Fayt doesn't miss the emblem of the Queen's Royal Guard pinned to their chests.

.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" Cliff asks in amusement and takes a quick swig of his water.

One of the guards steps forward, staring blandly at him.

.

"On order of the queen, you are to return to your quarters within the castle immediately."

The guard announces, his men surrounding the table.

.

"No reasons as to why?"

Maria leans forward with a pointed look, elbows on the table as she interlaces her fingers.

.

"Your questions will have to wait, you are to return now." The guard says, one of his men grabbing Sophia's arm.

She yelps while being lifted. Cliff springs into action immediately, pushing the guard's hands off her.

Two other guards approach him, pointing their lances at his neck. Maria and Fayt quickly jump from their seats as the apparent leader raises his hand.

.

"We are ordered to escort you to the castle; no matter what means must be taken to get you there." The guard explains.

"Please come quietly." Fayt stares at the elder man, searching for answers, but find none in his blank expression.

Finally assenting, Fayt leaves money for the bill before they depart.

~o~

"Is this how I was to be originally treated on my arrival to this dump? Get your hands off me!"

Albel's muffled shouting catches everyone's attention as they sit in the guests' private dining area.

The door opens harshly and Albel stumbles in after being pushed roughly.

Clearly agitated, he shoots the others a deadly glare, especially towards Cliff, who seems amused by his entrance.

He huffs and unsheathes the Crimson Scourge, swinging it to relieve some anger.

.

"Do you know what's going on?" Fayt questions and stops Albel in mid swing. "Hey, relax."

.

"How the hell should I know? Being dragged by colossal idiots for no reason should tell you I have no damn clue what the matter is about." Albel yells.

.

"I'll enlighten you." Nel responds, suddenly appearing in the doorway.

.

"And her majesty's dog has finally come. What message do you bring from the pompous bitch with the crown?"

.

"Albel." Fayt hisses, grabbing onto his arm and shaking him lightly. "Relax." They glare at each other momentarily before Albel pulls away,

dragging a chair from the table and seating himself, rocking the Crimson Scourge back and forth on its tip.

.

Nel seems unfazed by Albel's outburst and nods towards the guards, who shut the doors behind them.

.

"I apologize for the treatment the royal guard has placed you under;

it wasn't my attention for you all to be mixed up in the affairs of Aquaria," states Nel.

.

"Did something happen?" Fayt questions.

.

"Does this pertain to the body bags and planks of wood stuck on doors throughout the city?"

Albel says knowingly, earning a questioning look from Fayt.

"I make sure to be appraised of all affairs worth watching over.

What do you think I do; dawdle in the training area and swing my blade like an idiot all day?"

.

"What body bags?" Cliff ignores Albel's comment as Nel approaches the table.

.

"To be frank, this region of Aquaria has been under investigation for the past few months.

The Secret Legion has recently been a part of this particular case after realizing certain incidents may be linked together."

.

"What incidents?" Maria asks in interest.

.

"A string of murders." Nel answers. Sophia's eyes widen and Fayt sits down. "I can't admit many details since the case is confidential."

.

"If you don't want us to be apart of it, then why is the queen getting us involved, especially since details are sparse?" Maria asks.

.

"I wish I could spare you from the Queen's inquisitive eye. Our Holy Mother is a good queen;

however, her eye for detail makes me question her at times." Nel looks around the room as she sits down by the table,

ignoring the apparent sneer on Albel's face. "She's exploring all possibilities of this threat. You are one of these possibilities."

.

"She suspects us?" Fayt asks incredulously. Nel nods in ascent.

.

"Utter bullshit." Albel whispers.

.

"Why?" Fayt asks. "My friends haven't been here long enough to cause that kind of trouble. They're planning on returning home soon."

.

"That's why you are detained from leaving the castle for now." Nel states apologetically.

"I had informed the queen of Peppita's departure, and since she wasn't made aware of this before hand, she wasn't too thrilled with the news.

To prevent anyone from leaving, she's locked down the city and detained your modes of transportation off this planet."

.

"Are you serious?" Cliff yells, slamming his hand on the table. "No one touches my ship!"

.

"Peppita? She wouldn't do anyone any kind of harm unless it was to protect herself.

That's silly for the queen to get upset over a kid leaving." Sophia objects. "No offense to your queen, Nel."

.

"It is only being guarded for now." Nel assures Cliff. "It hasn't been boarded, not that the royal guard even knows how to get on such a contraption."

Nel offers a faint smile in reassurance. "This is just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I'm sure the queen will release you all soon."

.

"Is there any way we could help?" Sophia pipes up. "To prove our innocence?"

.

"No. The queen might see it as an attempt to tamper with evidence. It's best to be left in the dark as much as possible."

.

"If the city is locked down…Does the queen think this murderer is still within the city walls?" Fayt speculates.

.

"Please don't ask." Nel shakes her head and stands. "I'm not even sure myself as to who this perpetrator could be, or if this person is still here.

I hope to resolve this issue quickly, so you can all return to your respective homes before this gets any uglier. None of you should be mixed up in this."

Nel heads for the doors. "I'm truly sorry. Please refrain from causing any trouble until I can speak with the queen.

Just stay within the castle walls and gardens, and you'll be fine. I must return to my duties."

Nel bows and leaves the room. A trail of questioning gazes burn into her back.

.


	16. XIII

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**XIII  
**

._  
_

_Blonde hair, brown eyes. The victim ranges from eight to ten years of age. _

_No external fluids, foreign hairs, or blood have been found on the body._

_No internal injuries or evidence of a struggle. _

.

The report is shorter than the first five she has written.

All she can give is assumptions and repetitive facts. It's not much of a report at all. The queen will not like this.

.

Flustered, the doctor hastily places her quill in the ink well,

crosses her arms and stares out the window, the late spring sun just barely rising.

She has to give a report in a few short hours to the queen, shedding new light on this strange case of murders.

The only vital clue she has to the murderer's identity are the magic signatures she was able to lift off the bodies collected.

.

It had been a difficult process, requiring the combined magical energy of two of her assistants

and herself to find the signatures embedded in the skin and draw them out.

She stares at a drawing of the signature on her desk, sketched by a trusted painter of the queen.

She has never seen a signature so elaborately designed. Whoever possessed it contained a high tolerance to magic.

.

"_The murderer's level of magic is higher than mine_."

.

She has sifted through encyclopedias on Runology; massive books recording known ruins,

symbols, and incantations throughout their history and yet, she hasn't found a match to the signature.

The private guard of Aquaria even had copies made of its distinct design,

and discreetly questioned the citizens about its origins, yet no one knew nothing.

Two possibilities remain:

.

Either there is a new, unknown magic making its rounds around the region that has yet to be recorded or…

the markings are from another world entirely.

.

The doctor walks towards the examination table, where a little girl lies,

lips stiff and cloud pink, her hair frizzy and braided. She raises the cloth high enough to cover the girl's face.

.

What if this magical killer _is_ from outside their world?

It would have been an improbable theory to laugh at, but now that she knows such beings exist,

and they occupy Aquaria, the idea doesn't seem as farfetched as she would like it to be.

.

Something wants to reach to the forefront of her mind, shake her brain,

and tell her she knows the answers she is looking for.

~o~

A knock on the door to the queen's private office infuriates Magistrate Lasselle.

Can the queen get an ounce of peace without needing papers to sign and quarrels to resolve?

He approaches the door, opening it enough to discover Maria on the other side, wearing that navy trench coat he despises.

.

"_What woman wears tights with shorts obviously fit for a young boy?_

_And she bows like a gentleman; s__o unbecoming of a lady_." Lasselle thinks disapprovingly.

He has never been fond of foreigners. "What is it that you want?" He questions stiffly.

.

"Is her majesty available for an audience?" Maria asks.

Lasselle glares at the pair of knights who are suppose to keep guard. They appear helpless and shifty.

.

"She was persistent, Magistrate." One of the knight's states lamely, rubbing his leg.

.

"_What makes her think she can ask so easily and with force? _

_Flouncing around like she has command of something not rightfully hers..._" He babbles in his mind.

.

"Who are you interrogating at my door Lasselle?" The queen asks calmly,

her gaze lifting from the sheets of paper she skims through, a blue quill in her poised fingers.

.

"It is the blue haired foreigner." He says in distaste.

.

"_Lasselle_."

.

"Maria Traydor." He reiterates, opening the door fully, allowing Maria to step in and bow.

The knights return to their posts, avoiding Lasselle's narrowed gaze before the door shuts.

.

The queen gestures towards the empty arm chair across from her and continues with her work, unfazed by the occurrence.

.

"You don't seem surprised to see me your majesty," states Maria as she seats herself, eyes wandering.

The queen's office is tidy, neat. Rows upon rows of wooden shelves hang on the side wall,

each filled with a varying quantity of rolled parchments.

The lone floor to ceiling window is partially covered by a diamond patterned curtain,

the other drawn to let in some light. The mahogany desk is empty,

the queen opting to sit by the tea table gilded in gold with a back drop of unfamiliar landscape paintings.

Her white skirts hide her feet against the carpeting.

.

"I assumed you would appear before me with questions of your detainment.

Nel has discussed the situation with you?" Maria nods. "Then there is nothing to further expand upon."

.

"Your highness, forgive my rudeness, but we have affairs needing attention outside of Elicoor.

Sophia has schooling and Cliff has diplomatic affairs-"

.

"And what do you have to return to?" The queen replies quickly, leaning forward. "A family, a job, an education?"

.

Maria sits back in her seat, startled by her question. What is waiting for her back on Earth;

Political bigots howling to have a piece of her for their own use,

a dead end job offering no refuge from her inner troubles?

.

Her life lacks luster, lacks meaning without the world needing to be saved.

.

"My men have families and homes they do not get to visit often.

You do not see them begging to be released from work," says the queen.

.

"I am not one of your men." Maria replies through clenched teeth.

.

"You dare talk back?" Lasselle snaps. The queen gives him a stern look.

.

"Maria. Has it ever occurred to you as to why I speak freely of these matters with you and not with your assumed leader,

Fayt Leingod?" The queen pauses. "Despite his bravado and intelligence, I do not find him to be of leadership qualities."

.

"I disagree. He led us to a battle that could have insured the deaths of countless lives in the universe.

We all came back alive. He gave us hope when we felt we had none." Maria responds heatedly.

.

"And yet it is you taking charge of matters now as he sits on a bench polishing his sword leisurely.

The role of a leader never ends for someone who is chosen to become one." The queen's tone rises.

"What? Does my possession of an unimportant piece of information surprise you?

I must be privy to the comings and goings of my court." She folds her hands, tilts her head, and focuses her gaze on Maria.

"I may not have known you as long as I like,

but you strike me as a person to understand perilous matters more deeply than your comrades.

You voice your opinions on matters that result change. You're aware of what needs and what needs not be said, done."

The queen sighs, her forehead creasing. "You remind me much of myself when I was young.

Maybe that is why I have grown to like your bluntness, despite my distaste of where you come from."

.

"I-thank you." Maria slowly responds, unsure of what to make of her comments.

The queen appears less harsh with her understanding gaze,

more of the queen Maria thought she was when they first met.

.

"If you were a part of this world, I would make good use of you.

Not many people possess your qualities and unique abilities."

.

Maria does not like the implications in the queen's voice, where her suggestions can lead.

Her distrust rises higher than a tidal wave about to consume her completely.

~o~

Sophia thinks to ignore the persistent knocking on her bedroom door. She is still frazzled, dazed.

.

"_What had that been_?" She thinks. "_What did I see_?"

Sighing, she rises from the covers and calls for the knocker to come in.

.

Cliff opens the door quietly, gazing around the dimly lit room until he spots her.

He grins upon seeing Sophia's messy hair and askew pajamas, a part of her shirt hanging off her shoulder.

.

"Very provocative." Cliff smirks. Sophia rolls her eyes, hiking the sleeve back to its original place.

.

"Why are you here so early?" She questions, voice raspy with sleep. "_That was strange, very strange…"_

.

"Early? It's nearing twelve." Cliff snorts, sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers lingering over the plush red quilt.

.

"Oh." Sophia replies stupidly before squaring her shoulders.

"Never mind then, I guess I was really tired."

"_Or really confused."_

.

Cliff waves her comment aside and lies down, staring at the ceiling, his legs dangling off the bed.

Sophia's toes wiggle under the blanket by his head.

"_I'll figure it out later. Cliff's here, everything is fine_." She continuously rubs her neck.

.

"Sucks we have to get dragged into this murder business. I'm glad kings and queens don't run my life on Klaus IV."

.

'You'd probably over throw any kind of royalty established there."

.

"Damn right." Cliff grins. He shifts his head to stare at her.

"I wonder who's the idiot though," he suddenly frowns, "causing problems for everyone."

.

Sophia nods silently, wrapping her arms around her blanket covered knees.

"Hopefully we'll be released soon; I need to get back home. I have to go back to college soon."

.

"How long until semester starts?"

.

"Three weeks."

.

"And it takes you five days to get back to Earth right?" He cringes.

.

"I'll manage." Sophia laughs. "I should have left days ago to give me a head start."

.

"Well, three weeks is still some time to be on your own." Cliff scrunches his eyebrows.

"Wait, why give yourself almost a month to get ready for next semester?

Isn't that excessive? You could have a longer vacation.

It's not like you have homework assignments due before classes start."

.

"Oh, um…well, actually," Sophia blushes, caught, tugging at the quilt harshly,

"I wasn't planning on attending next semester at all."

.

"_Huh_? You just said-" He balances his weight on his bent elbows and gives Sophia a critical look.

"Are you dropping out of college?"

.

"No. No! Nothing like that! I was just planning on taking the semester off. You know-just to-"

Sophia blushes even harder, her eyes focused on the quilt's stitching.

"I wanted to give Fayt time to adjust if he came back to Earth with me."

.

"Oh." It's all Cliff can say. He lies back down.

.

"I thought Fayt would agree after awhile. I took the semester off so we could maybe find a place together.

I wanted to show him the city, especially this one park by the water where the sunset's really nice,

and instead of the lights turning orange when it gets dark, they turn blue." Sophia smiles sheepishly.

"I was also hoping to get him enrolled in some classes. We wouldn't have to go to the same university,

just one he likes, you know? He's always been really good in Symbological Genetics, just like Uncle Robert."

She trails off, eyes clouded over. "He probably could have been like his father if he continued studying."

.

"Sophia, people change."

.

"Not like Fayt." She shakes her head. "I've been asking him for months to think about going back to Earth.

He won't even consider it. He's so focused on staying here. He says he has something important to do."

.

"Like what?" Cliff asks, lying on his stomach, staring at her intently.

.

"He's been pretty secretive about it." Sophia shrugs.

.

"Do you think this has anything-I hate to bring this up." Cliff hesitates. "But…have you noticed anything between Fayt-"

.

"And Albel? I already know Fayt loves him." Sophia finishes. Cliff holds his breath, expecting tears, complaints,

anything but the faint smile on her lips. "It's so weird, isn't it? I can't help but laugh a little at the whole situation."

.

"Why, because Fayt swings that way?"

.

"Well, no. I mean, Albel, of all people?" Sophia's arms drop, limp, defeated.

.

"Ah, yeah, I did think that too at first." Cliff grins. "But, eh, you can't control what you feel.

Despite Albel being a pompous ass; I'm not sure what Fayt sees in him anyway-" He abruptly pauses. "Sorry-"

.

"It's ok." Sophia shakes her head, lying down beside him, staring at the grooves in the ceiling.

"He already said no." Her words are quiet, resigned.

.

No.

.

_No_.

.

Cliff shifts, wrapping Sophia in his arms. She is surprised by this, her hands squished between them.

.

"Listen, I didn't want this for you." Cliff whispers. Sophia chews her bottom lip, rubbing her head against his chest.

"You're a wonderful person. You always want to take care of everyone else. You have a big heart, you're selfless-"

.

"Selfish." She corrects him, closing her eyes.

.

"You're selfless."

.

"_Selfish_."

.

"Shut up." Cliff pokes her forehead.

He is reminded of blue hair beneath his chin, of a pink nose and teary eyes squished against his chest.

It is almost the same position he shared with Maria when she was younger,

when he happened to be passing by her room on the Diplo and heard her whimpering.

He couldn't leave her alone with nightmares of her mother, just like he couldn't leave Sophia.

"Love can make us selfish, but I haven't seen love make you kidnap Fayt

and forcefully drag him back to Earth where you can be with him all day, every day.

You might want him for yourself, but you've never done anything to go against what he wants.

Sure, you've been pushy, but you've been more worried about him staying here than anything else.

So stop beating yourself up for feeling selfish. Just…shut up and cry, scream; anything but making yourself feel bad."

.

Sophia lets out a shaky breath, suddenly holding onto Cliff tightly.

As she hiccups, gasps, and finally sobs, she recounts her conversation with Albel,

her confession to Fayt, and all the ill feelings she has always had towards Elicoor.

~o~

Maria walks along the corridor, eyes downcast. The tile changes to a brick path and she looks up,

finding herself in the garden, the guests' private dining area above her.

Fayt sits on a bench, his sword in front of him, polishing the metal.

Maria wonders what brings her here, what draws her to Fayt unintentionally.

She also wonders how many spies peer curiously at him.

.

"Maria?" Fayt calls upon recognizing her.

.

"Hi."

.

"Hey." Fayt smiles. He scoots to the other side of the bench as an invitation.

.

"I'll just stand." Maria replies, wrapping her arms around her chest.

She wonders how history would have been rewritten if she continued to be leader of Quark,

if she would have been the hero instead of Fayt.

.

"What're you thinking of?" He questions, sword resting on his thigh.

.

"Dinner?" In the moments that Fayt stares at Maria and her unconvincing response so intensely,

her urge to vomit her shame, betrayal, and loneliness grows stronger. "Have I…"

.

"What? You can tell me." Fayt leans his sword on the bench and stands up to give her his full attention.

He watches her brood quietly, eyes blank and lips slack, traits she rarely expresses. "Seems like Cliff was right."

.

"Cliff? You talked to him, about what?" She questions, a bit put off, momentarily forgetting her thoughts.

.

"He didn't give specifics. He's worried about you." Fayt chuckles, placing a hand on her shoulder.

.

"Have you ever been afraid of being selfish?" She blurts out, brushing aside his hand and sitting on the bench.

.

"Of what?"

.

"I don't want to say love but…I'm not sure if like is a strong enough word for it."

.

"You're in love with someone?" Fayt questions carefully. It has never crossed his mind Maria might be in love with anybody.

.

"When I was the leader of Quark, I had to be selfless. I had to sacrifice my personal life and focus on a grand goal.

I can't help but let this quality get in the way of what I feel because I know if I choose the selfish choice,

I'll be hurting a lot of people." Maria relaxes. She always feels comfortable in being frank with Fayt.

He has always been a good listener. "There might have been a time, a chance to tell this person how I feel,

but they love someone else now." Maria leans forward, holding her head in her hands.

"Just feels like everything is out of my control."

.

"Not everything, this is one person we're talking about, not your whole life." Fayt replies, rubbing her back in reassurance.

.

"No, you don't get it!" Maria rubs her face in frustration.

"It's _everything_ Fayt, these feelings, my job, those arrogant bastards from the military.

When I leave here, I won't know how to deal with it." Maria chuckles bitterly, turning her head to stare at Fayt sideways.

"I guess being away from Earth puts things in perspective."

.

"You don't have to tell me who it is, but maybe talking to them might help you move on-"

.

"I don't want to say how I feel." Maria interrupts.

"If I say it out loud, it'll make it real, a real problem. I already screwed up."

.

"Slow down," interjects Fayt, "I don't understand."

.

"I told Cliff I don't want him to marry Mirage." Maria finally admits. "Why did I have to do that?" _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

~o~

It is when Cliff thinks Sophia has fallen asleep he creeps quietly out of bed.

It is when he closes the door she remembers another time she awakens abruptly, in shock, in fear.

She thinks on that one moment of feeling like an intruder in someone else's dream,

unable to hear or smell, as if her nose was clogged and her ears were covered.

.

The room feels unexpectedly colder. She burrows deeper beneath her blankets. This isn't the first time. She remembers.

~o~

"You _what_?" Fayt is flabbergasted.

.

"I know. Stupid me, right?"

.

"_Does Cliff know what she feels?_" Fayt speculates. It would be silly not to understand the implications. "Maria…I'm so sorry."

.

"Pssh, don't be sorry. It's not like you did anything." Maria chuckles, her eyes tracing the outlines of trees.

"I really am stupid, though. I've felt this way for such a long time."

.

"I never even noticed, you concealed it well."

.

"I'm good at that kind of thing."

.

"I'm not sure how to take that."

.

"Me either." Maria slouches. "So how about you Fayt, any mind blowing secrets eating away at you?"

.

"_I can think of a few_." He shakes his head. "Don't steer away from the subject.

This is serious. If not me, I wish you would have told someone else this sooner."

.

"That's the thing, I talk to Cliff about _everything_, but I can't talk to him about this.

How can I? Our friendship would never be the same."

~o~

From the guests' balcony above, Nel stares at the pair seated on the bench, arms crossed.

It irks her to listen in on these conversations between her trusted friends on order of the queen.

She doesn't like this type of surveillance. Yet she doesn't trust anyone with this duty but herself.

She can be unbiased towards this situation, she knows it.

.

"Just as you watch them, I'm keeping an eye on you Scarlet." Nel turns to find Albel in the doorway.

He narrows his eyes before walking out. Nel holds her blades, the metal comforting her.

She will have to be extra weary of Albel. She knows she cannot keep an eye on him by herself.

He is tricky and certainly not someone she should call a friend. "_Unfortunate_."

~o~

_Sophia tugged her hair upward and looked behind her shoulder, attempting to get a better view in the mirror. _

_She couldn't see it. Cautiously, her fingernail dug into her neck, peeling back part of the dried substance. _

_She cringed, turned around, and leaned closer to the candle on the dressing table, rubbing her fingers together. _

_It looked like burnt skin or dried blood. Her thoughts drifted…drifted…_

~o~

_Sophia was in a garden, the apples green and lemons brown spotted, _

_rough like chapped lips against her fingertips. The pumpkins in the patch were deformed, broken in. _

_Flies buzzed above exposed orange flesh. She approached to get a better look. _

_Her feet knocked into something soft. Gasping, she stumbled backwards. _

_On the ground was an old man, his face grape vine wrinkled, his lips opened in a silent plea. _

_His overalls were dirt caked, the pant legs rolled up to reveal hairy white legs. He gaped at her, eyes milky blue and still. _

.

_Her vision darkened. She ran into something, someone. _

_She felt around frantically. Her fingers glided urgently over arms, shoulders, lips, and hair. _

_She knows this body.  
_

.

_Her hands landed on something sticky. _

_She quickly backed away, tripped through weeds, rocks, dirt until a hand pulled her forward, the fingers hot on her neck-_

~o~

_And she bolted upright in bed, dazed. _

~o~

_Beep, beep, beep._

.

Maria searches her pockets until she locates her communicator.

.

"Roger!" Maria exclaims, happy to have found an excuse out of this discussion of her feelings.

She quickly notes her how haggard the boy looks, absent of his customary helmet, ears drooping.

He chews on his lip, eyes wandering aimlessly. "Roger?"

.

"Yeah." Roger wiggles his nose and rubs his head. "Hey."

.

"Are you ok?" Maria questions. Fayt scoots closer to peer at the screen. Roger is quiet for a few moments,

until he shakes his head and slaps himself lightly on the face.

.

"I need to get it together."

.

"Roger, what's going on?"

.

"It's Melt." The screen blurs and clears. Roger readjusts the communicator,

his free hand placing the helmet on his head. "Dad wanted me to call you since it was faster."

.

"About what?" Maria prods.

.

"It's Melt." Roger repeats, sighing heavily. "They found him this morning."

.

"Found him?"

.

"Dead, ya know?" Roger snaps. Fayt gasps and Maria's grip on the device tightens.

.

"Roger, I'm sorry to hear that." She quickly soothes.

.

"Are you ok?" Fayt moves in closer, startling Roger when he appears on the small screen.

.

"I don't understand. Can you start from the beginning?"

Maria asks, standing up quickly and hurriedly heading inside the castle.

~o~

The doctor strolls through the halls towards the dining area to grab lunch with her assistants,

who chatter amongst themselves in excited whispers.

While walking, they pass by Fayt and Maria, who head in the opposite direction.

The pair nod their heads in greeting before passing by quickly.

.

The doctor hears it, a whisper, like an inhale of breath. She turns and watches them walk away.

She spots Fayt's shadow twisting, its fingers sharpening. In curiosity, the doctor focuses, her eyes shining.

Traces of magical energy appear, fluttering away from Fayt's back,

like fireflies dimming their glow in the approaching sun light.

They disappear too fast for her eyes to catch. She does not have enough energy to distinguish his signature.

Could the markings be the same? She is not sure, she hopes not.

~o~

"The boy's been missing since the end of the festival. 

His father came to me, asking for his son. I presumed he was with Roger, but he wasn't."

Roger's father states. Fayt, Maria, and Nel sit at the guests' dining table, the communicator between them.

"He was discovered in the deeper part of the woods outside the village, 

where we hold bonfires, a blanket covering his body. I had our priest examine him." The chief continues.

.

"And that's when you discovered the traces of magical energy?" Nel asks.

.

"Yes. They were just as you described Ms. Zelpher."

.

"The same traces found on the other victims," Nel whispers quietly to herself.

.

"I thought it wise to contact you with this information after our brief discussion during your stay here. 

If your suspected murderer is in our region, I would like to know as much about this person as I can. 

My people may be in danger."

.

"Of course. I will report this immediately to the queen.

We will send a delegation to Suferio as soon as possible." Nel responds, closing the channel.

.

"Roger must be so upset." Maria crosses her arms.

.

"Give him my condolences once you speak with him again," says Nel.

.

"The festival was a perfect time to get out of Aquaria." They glance at Fayt.

"You see what I mean, don't you? There were a lot of people at the port, the shops were busy.

It was the perfect time to slip away unnoticed."

.

"He's right." Maria agrees. "You mentioned before these murders have been happening across the region.

Maybe this person travels frequently to avoid detection?

It's plausible he moved to the Sanmite Republic to continue his dirty work."

.

"Possibly." Nel furrows her eyebrows. "It's also possible this person came back to Aquaria to make us think he,

or she, is still in the Sanmite Republic." Nel stands.

"Thank you for giving this information to me Maria. I must see her majesty at once." She bows and exits hastily.

.

"I wish they would let us help out." Fayt sighs.

.

"I do too, but it isn't our business." Maria pockets her communicator.

.

"You're not the least bit curious?" Maria thinks of how naive Fayt sounds, thinking any problem,

despite the world he is in, is his problem if he can solve it.

.

_"It doesn't work like that_," she thinks.

"All we can really do is plead our case, worry about ourselves and how the rest of us will be able to get off this planet.

I'm not going against Nel's wishes or the queen's for that matter concerning the investigation."

_I want to stay as far away as I possibly can from those two. _

"This is their world, Fayt. We may not like it, but we have to respect their rules."

.

"People are dying!"

.

"And?" Maria cannot help but say. She does not mean to sound aloof.

.

"_And_?" Fayt echoes in disbelief.

.

"Murderers aren't anything new to us. You have to let Elicoor's system of justice resolve this issue,

or else that system will crumble if vigilante's take matters in their own hands."

.

"We've done it before."

.

"That was different." Maria responds.

"That battle concerned the whole universe; this only concerns one world. Leave it be."

.

"But _you'v_e done it before as the leader of Quark. You fought for people's independence against the Federation.

You went against their system." Fayt points out. "What about now?"

.

"That isn't my role anymore." Maria states hollowly.

.

"_The role of a leader never ends for someone who is chosen to become one."_

.

* * *

**Wow. I thought I'd never update this story! I had to rework my outline for the rest of the story since new ideas kept popping into my head. I pretty much made it harder on myself to update this. I've gotten more hours at work, so it's been more of a problem to update, especially when my brain wants to shut off when I get home. Anyway, I'll be doing revisions on past chapters, plot wise. Nothing anyone needs to go back and reread. It's just that I went back to look at the older chapters since I've forgotten a few things. I made thirteen pages of notes and while doing so, I realized some things I wrote didn't make sense...like how Albel's arm itches when he isn't supposed to feel anything in that arm, lol. I'll be fixing those small areas. **

**Thanks to everyone who is actually sticking with this story, despite the wait. The story isn't dead, just slow moving. It's been great to play around with my writing here. I'm trying to cut the fat, er, trying to cut down on the imagery I use since it gets pretty random in places, despite how nice it sounds. I'm a writer forever in experimentation and that's where I plan to stay, editing and editing and editing. **

**Ah, I've been conflicted with how to end this story. After juggling a few ideas, I finally realized how this story should, needs to end. It's just a matter of typing out the rest of the chapters to get there lol. **

**I want to upload two new chapters soon before I leave the state in April on a fun vacation. I'm pretty excited about that =D. **

**Until next time!**


	17. XIV Part I

******Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

.

**XIV**

**Part I**

.

-and a gloved hand snatches his wrist, quickly pulling him away from the unsuspecting guard.

Two pairs of feet-one clumsy and one careful-stumble into a pitch black room.

A door shuts, and then a torch is lit from a sconce, illuminating the low ceiling.

.

He falls forward, caught in arms and metal.

A _tsk_ is heard and he is pushed gently to lean on a wall between barrels smelling of wet wood and apples.

.

"Fayt?" Albel whispers, searching said companion's face for any sign of wakefulness.

Fayt's lids are lowered, his head bobbing to the side. He is still asleep. "Sit down."

He scowls, forcefully sitting a sluggish and resistant Fayt on a crate.

.

"I shouldn't be babysitting." He mutters, pulling out his sword, watching Fayt's body slouch to the side.

The Crimson Scourge's tip trails up Fayt's arm, over his green shirt, continues to his neck, and idles at his ear, eliciting no reactions.

It would be easy to cut down this oblivious slumbering idiot,

hide his body parts in the barrels scattered across the room, and substitute the wine for his blood.

Albel frowns. Such a thought would have pleased him, but now,

he can only feel a clenching twist in his chest, the tightness similar to the charred flesh of his arm.

He isn't pleased by the notion of becoming less wicked, less immune to emotions.

Giving in to what he feels is almost as frightening as watching his father die.

.

The sensations from the sword slowly awaken Fayt, who inhales sharply and blinks rapidly.

He squints, blinks again and groggily questions, "Albel?"

.

"About time." Albel moves the blade towards tanned collarbones, the coolness of the steel startling Fayt,

who moves to slap the sword away, only to have the tip dig further into his skin;

not enough to cut, but enough to sting. "No need to stand."

.

"What're you doing?" The question is accompanied by a pout. Fayt stretches,

more alert, realizing he sits on a hard surface rather than a mattress. "Wait, where're we?"

.

"Took a notice to your surroundings so quickly?" Albel drawls sarcastically.

.

"Where. Are. We?" Fayt deadpans, traces of sleep having instantly vanished.

.

"By the look of the apples in the crate, and the bottles of honey there, and the wines tucked snugly in the racks."

Albel points to said objects with his chin. "I surmise this is one of the food storage rooms in the castle."

.

"Why-"

.

"I would like to ask you _why _you were lurking around the castle at night, but I can't, since you won't remember."

.

"What?" Fayt snaps to attention, circling his hand around the blade. "What are you talking about?"

.

"You're not aware that you sleepwalk?"

.

"No, I've never done that before." Fayt stares at him confusedly.

He finally is able to push the blade away from his body. "What was I doing?"

.

Albel walks over to the crate of apples, gingerly picking a green skinned one and eyeing it carefully.

"You were about to pummel a guard, at least that is what seemed to be your intention."

.

Fayt's eyes widen. "Why would I do that?"

.

"Don't ask me questions I don't know the answers to." Albel rolls his eyes, tapping the apple against his claw.

.

The thought of him moving around unaware, not in control of his body startles Fayt more than he would like it to.

He would have felt more at ease if he had been sleepwalking in the wilderness,

because sleepwalking in a castle loaded with armed guards

and the queen's accusing finger pointed his way is bound to raise trouble.

Anything he does is being monitored, weighted on the scale for innocence or guiltiness.

An unconscious and potentially harmless act, whether the queen chose to see it as such,

can be seen as a betrayal to her hospitality.

And the interrogation, he can imagine how that would turn out; _what was your motive for being out at this time of night? _

_Where was your intended destination? Who were you going to see? _

_Are you in league with the murderer, scouting out targets as everyone slumbers?_

_I don't know, I don't know. I didn't know what I was doing._ How laughable. He is sure no one would believe _that_.

The scenario brings forth the question: "Have you always known I sleepwalk?"

.

"I caught you roaming the halls once some time ago. It irks me to not have noticed it sooner,

not unless this is a habit you recently developed." Albel explains, taking a bite of his apple. "What were you dreaming of?"

.

Fayt looks down, unable to answer.

.

"Was it as violent as the dreams you've already told me about,

like the one of me dying some kind of brutal death." Albel asks wistfully.

.

Fayt thinks on this, trying to piece together something he isn't sure will make a clear image.

He usually remembers his dreams much more vividly than a memory, but splotches of color and murmuring voices is all he gets.

The screams, crying, tattered clothes, the black winged creatures demanding sins to be repaid in blood;

the never-ending flow of these dreams has made him overlook those lapses in violent imagery.

No, this isn't the first time he has seen this.

.

If it was not apparent before, with this new piece of information, it is apparent now. Something is happening that he is unaware of.

The question of whether it is small enough to contain or massive enough to cause trouble is what unsettles him.

He has enough to deal with keeping his powers from overtaking his body, from his wings sprouting, with his feelings for Albel.

He has to fix this; he has to get to the bottom of this _now_.

.

"I could have hurt someone." Fayt states, fingers digging into chipped wood.

The thought alone makes his stomach twist, as if wrenching a damp cloth too tightly, ringing out the access.

"Thank you." He says sincerely. Albel sneers, throwing the apple to Fayt, who almost drops the fruit upon catching it.

.

"Must I reiterate how unsafe you are? Meditation is useless." Albel says, leaning on a shelf lined with pots and glass bottles.

Fayt doesn't make a stand against his claim because a part of him agrees.

"I must look out for you full time before you go cut some poor fool's ear off without realizing the damage you are doing."

.

"I don't want you to take on that responsibility," protests Fayt.

.

"You don't seem to realize you already placed that responsibility on me months ago, I just refused to pick up the role."

Albel steps forward and trails a claw down Fayt's chest.

"Your resolve to refuse what you have become is much stronger than your will to conquer what it has made you.

It is apparent you can't do this alone."

.

"You're going to help, actually help me instead of nag?" He asks, earning a glare from Albel.

"You've always left me alone to deal with my personal issues, why help me now?"

.

"I think…in some way, you've been asking for my help for a long time

and I refused because you have been able to worm your way out of situations before.

This warrants my full attention, as it should have done months ago."

Albel explains, keeping the rest of his storming thoughts to himself.

"I hope I do not have to rescue you from something like this again.

Getting you out of trouble will not help. It will only prolong the moment when you fall."

.

Fayt watches Albel sneak out of the storage room quietly. He bows his head, dejected.

And here he thought meditation was doing something to calm him down, but that had been the point of Albel's statement, hadn't it?

Meditation has kept him in a state of calm, unmoving, unbending,

but it hasn't helped him solve anything. Fayt bites into the apple harshly, the taste bitter than sweet, unripe than ripe.

.

His power can destroy worlds; can even destroy the one god who had created them,

and he thought a power so vast, so encompassing can be contained by staring at a blue candle for hours?

He feels it unreasonable to perceive meditation as such a thing. He has reaped some benefits from it. He still can.

~o~

The next four days finds Fayt and his friends imprisoned in the castle,

visiting each other's rooms and sharing meals where conversation is scarce, almost forbidden.

The watchful eyes of the servants and the knights have made them weary of their words.

Maria and Sophia find themselves in the library more often, leafing through books on religion, Runology, and fictional stories

-which Sophia takes a liking to immediately-hoping to find some kind of romance story to escape her own.

Nel bids the group greetings at breakfast and dinner before continuing her duties,

becoming a shadow just disappearing at the corners of hallways, present and absent at once.

She refuses to drop any hints on how far the investigation has gotten.

Fayt can tell by the frustrated look in her eyes that the search is not going well.

.

Cliff has been making conversation with as many maids as possible,

gathering any information he can get his hands on about the investigation.

His fluttering eyes and flexed muscles are more than enough to coax the kitchen maid to talk about her ventures into the city.

She gossips about the shop owners arguing with one another over prices,

of the lovely little girls selling muffins to raise money for their sick mother,

and of planks boarding up doors to businesses she used to frequent often;

the latest victim being a tea shop known for its spicy brewed teas. She knows nothing of bloodless bodies.

.

Albel keeps to himself, his behavior unchanged. However, his constant observations

of Fayt's movements are more suffocating than the pretty box of a castle the latter is trapped in.

Fayt is not used to so much attention. If only he can enjoy it without the suspicion laced in those intense crimson eyes.

~o~

Fayt sits on the floor in his room, a partially melted candle situated by the carpet's edge.

His legs are crossed, his fingers loose. He sifts through his mind, his dreams, diving bone deep into memories.

He cannot make out proper shapes, just loud, chattering, whispering voices and blacks spilling into reds,

blues blotting out yellows, swirling into a mass of confusion. He shakes his head, frustrated.

.

"Relax." He whispers to himself, recounting the healer's instructions. He cannot dive in too quickly.

.

Fayt opens his eyes and stares at the tiny flame before him; un-flickering, strong, and calm.

He focuses on its light, the smell flooding into his nose and its brightness filling the holes in his mind.

They seep into his busy thoughts, soothing his senses.

.

His mind empties.

.

Hushes

.

Inhale

.

Silence

.

Exhale

.

_Shhhh_

.

Inhale

.

_What am I looking for?_

_.  
_

Exhale

.

_SHHH-  
_

_.  
_

After a few moments of silence, Fayt tilts his head unconsciously when he notices a buzzing in his mind.

His lids lower, concentrating on the sound. The buzzing becomes loud, Louder, LOUDER.

Something takes shape and then he sees it, a blurred image sharp at the edges.

He furrows his eyebrows, allowing the image to focus, closing his eyes completely, afraid to break his concentration.

.

The buzzing turns into a soft hum coming from a brick oven.

Utensils and pans clank soundlessly together, hanging above a counter top caked in flour.

The image zooms out and he is suddenly outside, staring at a familiar striped canopy. He knows this place.

It is the bakery he and Albel visited before they went to the castle to greet Sophia and the others.

He is puzzled as to why he sees it now…but something urges him to visit it again.

.

"_You must go; this is where you need to be."_

.

A sharp inhale of breath and his concentration cracks, the image fading.

His shoulders grow slack and the heels of his hands dig into the rug.

It is not the answer he has been expecting, but one answer is better than none.

However, he cannot leave, not until the queen allows them access to the city again.

~o~

"Have there been any recent developments in the Sanmite Republic?" The queen asks, sipping on a cup of tea in the throne room.

.

"No bodies have been uncovered. Our junior healer confirmed the story of the village elder upon arriving to Surferio.

The victim is a child Menodix. No marks, a clean kill." Nel reports distastefully.

.

"The magic signature is still being analyzed. We know so far it does not originate from Aquaria or Airyglyph.

We are looking into the incantations specifically used by the Sanmite Republic. Greeton is also a strong possibility,

especially since they fuse Runology with their own knowledge of technology and magic," inputs Clair.

.

"Do we have a general idea of where this person of interest may be?" The queen prods further.

.

"With only one body accounted for in the Sanmite Republic, there is a possibility he may strike again in that region,

but since no new bodies have been recovered, he could have moved on to an entirely new area…or he could have returned here."

Clair speculates, resting her hand on her hip.

.

"And our guests?" The Queen asks, placing her cup down, her sleeves settling like silken blankets on her lap.

.

Nel knows this question holds many behind it; she knows this is a test of her honor to the crown.

Nel has never thought to betray her queen, the Secret Legion,

her oath by hiding any information, whether useless or important, from the queen.

She is not about to turn back on all these things. She has fought too hard for the recognition and rank.

.

"They have exemplary behavior, your majesty. No suspicious activities have been reported."

Nel states simply, watching the queen's gaze slide over to Clair.

.

"My reports have been similar, your majesty. Aside from personal conversations,

nothing out of the ordinary, they are truly most understanding guests towards our situation, despite being unable to return home."

Clair explains. Nel is relieved and miffed to hear her report.

She should have expected Clair to have her own set of spies eyeing her comrades.

.

"If you permit me to speak openly, my queen?" Nel starts.

.

"You may."

.

"It has been a number of days since Fayt and the others have been confined to the castle,

they have obeyed your wishes. Why not award them for this inconvenience?

Despite the grandeur of your castle, it must be stifling to be strained in one place for a length of time.

I am sure your majesty is much aware of this," she pauses, "may we allow them access to the city?"

.

"This case is far from being solved Nel." The queen answers.

.

"And yet we hold onto them as prisoners rather than guests, as if we have no other people to blame for the ill that has befallen us.

No evidence has been produced to link any of them to this case."

.

"Nel." The queen warns.

.

"This is our business. Is that not something you emphasized the first time they returned to our world?

You want to keep matters contained, devoid of any outside interference. Keeping them prisoner opposes such an idea."

.

"I am making sure Aquaria is safe."

.

"Having foreigners around unobserved makes you nervous.

They can infect us with their technology; spoil our minds with devices we have yet to achieve-" Nel halts, eyes widening.

She has never talked back to the queen before. She quickly bows, her head hung low. "Forgive me. I spoke out of turn."

.

Nel knows the queen had never thought a ship from the sky

could shatter her belief that nothing but the Holy Mother's power could annihilate her country.

Nel remembers the day when the Secret Legion gazed upon the beastly contraption for the first time,

the exterior a distorted face seemingly coated in blood,

the engines roaring like a vicious monster, the Vendeeni Fayt had called them,

awed by its power. She had looked at the queen then, her face naked of emotion.

It was the first time she saw the queen speechless, powerless and small, surrounded by death and destruction.

Since that day, Nel wonders if the queen ever doubts her authority,

if she can be strong enough to defend her country of blue grace and fine lines from an otherworldly power like that again.

.

Nel scrunches her eyebrows. It was Fayt she had blamed for seeing the queen in such a state that day,

had blamed him for the war, for the deaths, for every incident afterward.

She had wondered the halls of the castle aimlessly in the aftermath,

regretting ever meeting Fayt and Cliff in the prison catacombs of Airyglyph.

But even if he never came to her world, the air was still hot and heavy with war, soldiers were still possible casualties.

She just wanted someone to blame for the misfortune of others. She had reprimanded herself for her childishness,

swallowed the feeling and focused on her work.

.

It is her sole reason for keeping Fayt at an unnoticeable distance.

The closer she became to Fayt, the more likely she would find reasons to blame him for something, _anything_.

.

"They are not to leave the city, they are forbidden to cross the bridges.

They're freedom only extends to the city wall." The queen pauses, eyes narrowed dangerously. "That is all. You may go."

.

Clair and Nel bow and turn for the door.

.

Nel doesn't think to relax yet. She is only grateful to know the queen is much more forgiving than the King of Airyglyph,

who would have demanded a lashing for such words.

.

"Can I really be at fault for doing what I think is best for my people? I do hope you are right Nel and that I am wrong."

The queen's voice echoes and crawls up Nel's back, causing her to shiver and tighten her grip on her blades. She turns,

her gaze lingering on the queen.

.

She hopes so as well.

~o~

Fayt hears the news right out of Nel's mouth during dinner. The group relaxes at the added freedom.

Maybe this is a sign of them returning home soon?

.

Albel stares at Fayt, at the added brightness in his eyes upon hearing the news.

Why is he suddenly excited? They are still prisoners. Albel is not under the illusion that he is a guest,

he scoffed at the thought as soon as the murders were made known to him. He wonders if Fayt plans for something.

.

Fayt's tattoos grow hot, but do not glow. His back itches, but his wings do not appear.

Fayt is oblivious to Albel's stare, to everything but the thoughts repeating in his head.

He can leave. He can _leave_. He has to take advantage of this opportunity.

.

* * *

_Heh. I've been out of commission for awhile, pardon my absence! Thank you to all who have reviewed, I appreciate your comments. Sorry for any spelling mistakes I didn't catch!  
_

_**Mizu Hoseki:** Yeah, I already know what's going to happen in the story. I already have a full outline of the events and the ending. Just a lot of editing to do in the chapters themselves! This story was supposed to be 20 chapters originally, but it might be longer, depends if I fit all the events nicely together. Anyway, thanks for reviewing and I'm glad your enjoying this!_

_**Misha2011:** And I love you, hehe. Thanks so much with sticking with this story! I'll try to update a bit quicker. _

_**Iggy logged out:** Your right! At the beginning, when I was doing research for the story, I have no idea why my eyes kept reading that his arm was damaged instead of completely gone from the fire. I guess before hand, unconsciously, I wanted to integrate a wounded arm rather than a fully mechanical arm in the story. I'm sorry this bothers you ^^;;. I did want the story to be full on following with canon when I first started writing it, but I decided, hell, I'm experimenting with my writing here, let me not be completely stiff about where the writing and plot takes me. I tend to be pretty stiff with canon when it comes to fanfiction stories, so I wanted a change of pace, a breather, you know? Thanks for pointing that out though! It can be a drag when people stray insanely far from canon, but other fanfiction authors have done it pretty well. Thanks for reading. I hope you stick it out till the end!_

_**Hihazuki**: Aw, thanks so much! Your review is much appreciated! I will try to pump this chapters out a quicker. I am not a huge fan of Sophia either, but I never let my dislike for a character taint their personality and character. I think that's a huge violation a fanfic author can do to an existing character (whether it be from spite or dislike). I'm not a fan of bashing characters either, I think its childish of fanfic author's to do so, lol. _

_Well, onward! Thanks everyone for the favorites and subscribes! This is one long journey we are taking! Let's stay together till the end!_

_-EggPan_


	18. XIV Part 2

******Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean.**

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

.

**XIV**

**Part II**

.

"Are you sure this is ok?" Sophia questions, her arm securely entwined with Maria's

as they stroll through the castle gates and into the busy streets of Aquios.

Sophia periodically looks behind her, having seen the same pair of men for the past ten minutes,

walking a safe distance away, making no attempts to conceal themselves.

It is apparent they are being followed. "We've only been given permission to leave yesterday night,

isn't it kind of soon to be venturing out now?"

.

"I'd agree with you, but my patience needs some room to breathe before I become completely impatient."

Maria answers, navigating between horses and carts.

"Besides, we haven't had a girl's day since we've been here.

Now is the time to do it before we get kicked off this planet."

.

Sophia raises an eyebrow, jogging to be side by side with Maria,

attempting to keep up with her long strides. She never felt the need to be overly close to Maria.

She felt a bond established between them before they ever knew of one another because of their genetically altered genes.

.

Maria was like a computer to Sophia when they first met,

a digital bank filled with information on everyone, scrutinizing everything with an analytical eye.

.

"Anything in mind to eat or drink?" Maria asks.

.

Sophia shrugs, gazing at the flower beds in a few storefronts, while others have benches,

one filled with kids yelling at each other, their lips smacking noisily as they eat sticky buns.

.

Maria's arms had always been crossed in front of her chest too, as if blocking anyone from entering her heart,

from getting too close. Sophia wonders if being the leader of Quark has made her distant and skeptical of everything.

.

After a few minutes of walking, they end up in a less populated area.

This neighborhood is blanketed with moss covered fountains and narrow streets.

Curtains bellow out of open windows, flower pots and small trinkets crowd along the sills.

Sophia can see the charm in Aquios tucked away in these less lavish areas of the city,

still clean, not as refined, the individuality of houses more prominent than the uniformed apartments closer to the castle.

She continues to admire her surroundings as Maria cuts through alleyways, never unsure of her footsteps.

She does not seem lost.

.

"Have you been around here before?" Sophia questions,

eyeing a pouty lipped boy sitting on a stoop with a woman garbed in a green dress and apron.

She fusses with his hair, her fingers trying to smooth the rebellious strands flat on his head.

Sophia thinks to laugh, but faces forward upon feeling a sharp tug on her sleeve.

They stand in a small square, a stone statue of an angel situated in the center, her hair encrusted with flower petals,

her mouth open as if to sing. A child sits wrapped in her robes, hands extended, waiting to be embraced.

.

"I have actually." Maria answers, releasing Sophia's arm as they reach the base of the statue.

"This isn't my first time returning to Elicoor." Sophia stares inquisitively at her, surprised by this fact.

"I came back a few months ago during Aquaria's raining season. There were so many kids in the streets, playing in the puddles.

Some of them even went in the fountains to play water games. The parents weren't very happy about that."

Maria smirks, voice carrying wisps of water-logged memories. "No one knew me and I knew none of them.

It felt nice to be…unknown." She says, strolling leisurely to a sweet shop,

an array of cookies sitting on racks, silver trays, and cups in the display case.

.

Sophia awes at the sight of yellow cookies with white shavings sprinkled on top,

square cookies with checkered patterns, and flat brittle brown cookies stacked against each other.

She hears someone laugh and turns to find Maria staring at her in amusement, arms crossed, a twinkle in her eye.

Sheepishly, Sophia steps back and glares half halfheartedly at her.

.

"What's so funny?"

.

"Nothing…" Maria shrugs and Sophia pouts full force, eyes unnaturally large on her petite face.

Maria rolls her eyes. "It's just…you remind me of how innocent you really are."

.

"Innocent?" Sophia tilts her head, watching Maria greet the shop owner and ask for a box.

.

"I did fight in a war, you know." Sophia huffs and approaches the display case with less enthusiasm.

.

"I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. It's rare, your one of a kind."

.

"You can say the same for yourself, but for a different reason." Sophia responds.

What must it be like to have the power to change the structure of matter?

They never had an in depth discussion about their enhanced abilities together.

She had caught Maria and Fayt talking privately sometimes around the Diplo,

but they ceased immediately once they knew she was there. What did they speak of without wanting her to know?

What did those expressions of sympathy and grief mean?

.

"Can I have these two, please?" Ignoring the comment,

Maria taps her finger on the glass, pointing to the yellow cookies. "Want anything?"

.

Sophia licks her lips, unsure of what to choose,

but one look from Maria and she knows she is allowed to fill the whole box on her own.

She dives in quickly, ordering every treat in her line of sight, from the green cookies drizzled with chocolate,

the tanned cookies dipped in white frosting, to the pink cookies with cream chunks.

.

"Is that all?" The shop owner chortles and Sophia lifts her nose indigently in the air, backing away from the display case.

Maria cannot help the laughter bubbling from her chest as she pays for the treats.

.

They sit on a bench just outside the shop. Sophia passes out napkins and quickly grabs the pink cookie greedily,

earning a snort from Maria. "You must be one of those girls who hordes food but never gains a pound."

.

"Shut up." Sophia snaps playfully, biting into the cookie, surprised to find it soft and warm,

a bit sticky as she rolls the flavor of apples and cherries in her mouth. They eat in silence for awhile, basking in the quiet.

Maria watches how delicately Sophia handles the next cookie,

breaking it into pieces on her napkin, making sure no crumbs get on her clothes.

.

"So, why did you come here before on your own, if you don't mind me asking?"

Sophia questions, munching on walnuts mixed with moist blueberry.

She watches Maria twirl the checkered patterned cookie, her fingers becoming lightly greased.

.

"Well, I never really see different worlds for what they are when I'm worrying about living through another battle."

Maria begins. "I just see the beauty marred by ruined buildings and dead bodies.

So I thought, why not come back? Why not _really_ visit Elicoor?"

.

"That thought never occurred to me." Sophia whispers, fiddling with the crumbs in her napkin.

"But isn't it lonely, traveling on your own?"

.

"No, it doesn't have to be." Maria smirks. "I haven't been able to travel much since I got a full time job;

my boss is probably going to kill me when he finds out I'll need a few extra days to get back."

She chuckles and nibbles on a cookie. "You should travel some more before you graduate college,

because once your tied down to a job, it'll be hard to have the freedom to do anything you want completely."

Maria startles Sophia when she places her hand on her hair with a faint smile. The gesture isn't comforting;

Maria's fingers feel stiff as she flicks some of Sophia's hair out of her face.

.

"That's a pretty miserable thought, being alone while my family and friends wonder where I am.

I can't let anyone worry like that. I need someone to be with me to travel through a whole galaxy."

Sophia smiles sheepishly as Maria's hand leaves her hair.

.

"What if you wanted to be alone? To disappear off everyone's radar, make everyone worry for all you care."

Maria whispers, voice as far away as the planets she has traveled to.

.

"Put it that way and it seems so thoughtless." Sophia answers in a reprimanding tone.

"Maybe selfish too. Why hurt everyone who worries about you? Who would want you to disappear?"

.

"_Because I've been hurt by people I trust._ _It's not a bad thing to want to get away, is it?_"

Maria thinks, putting on her best smile, eyes alight in mirth.

"Ah, don't take it so seriously! Being a little evil can be fun, puts everyone around you on edge."

.

"It's just plain wrong though, to intentionally hurt people because you can."

.

"Even if they hurt you?"

.

"Who's hurt _you_?" Sophia pauses, staring tentatively at Maria,

who looks upward at the laundry lines connecting houses together.

They are so thin, bowing under the weight of wet clothing, about to snap.

.

"No one." Maria says, shoving her hand in her pockets. She is about to snap.

~o~

Fayt's first attempt to leave the castle, inconspicuously, failed.

As soon as he entered the guests' hall that morning,

Albel was leaning on a column with crossed arms, waiting for him with a blank expression.

Fayt quickly asked if he would be joining him for breakfast in an attempt to hide his true intentions.

Albel sneered in response, but followed Fayt none the less to the dining room. It had been like this that whole day;

Albel appearing at the most inconvenient of times, just when Fayt was about to grab at opportunities to disappear.

.

Albel's concern is appreciated and ill timed.

.

Fayt knows Albel will protest to the idea of snooping around the city on a hunch that mostly likely leads to no results.

He has to investigate this on his own. If nothing comes of his search,

he can invent an excuse for his disappearance once he returned to the castle, and that would be the end of it.

.

This morning, Fayt hopes he can enter the city without any problems.

He wakes up earlier than usual; garbed in brown pants with a brown vest over a blue shirt, ready to depart with the sunrise.

He opens the door a crack and peeks into the hallway, holding his breath; a guard stands by the staircase.

He knows attempting to escape the guard's attention will lead to trouble,

so he adjusts his pack on his shoulder and walks past him, appearing as casual as possible.

The eyes of the guard and the woman in the painting in front of Albel's bedroom door

seem to follow his descent down the staircase.

.

He heads to the side gate of the castle, lesser known and not as traffic heavy with people.

This leaves him closer to the pier. He will have to cover more ground.

He does not miss the knowing gazes of the knights' watching him.

His instincts tell him he will be followed around the city. The queen is not ready to trust him so quickly.

.

That is fine by him. He does not plan for illegal activities.

.

Upon walking a short distance, Fayt takes a deep breath; glad to be alone once he sets a steady pace on the street.

He should have at least told the others he would be leaving for awhile.

Then again, that might have warranted a group trip into the city.

If any of them are really curious about his whereabouts, he has his communicator.

.

Fayt shoves his hands in his pockets, strolling past the docks, the streets pleasantly quiet and sparsely populated.

He can feel the city blink traces of sleep out of its eyes, yawning like a slowly opening door,

stretching like rope being pulled taught. He likes the feeling, being cloaked in a half awake city because these days,

he walks in a daze, unsure of whether he is asleep or not.

.

He stands just a few feet away from the bakery after an hour of wandering, waiting for it to open.

The morning rush of customers has yet to trickle in.

Despite the bakery's warm colored canopy and the scent of deliciously fresh baked bread wafting through the door,

nothing about the place strikes Fayt as remarkable. He was hoping something would spark in his memory,

or maybe a buried feeling would resurface. "_Come on, give me something_."

He walks inside the bakery just to be sure but he feels nothing,

no epiphanies, no realizations, just a sense of familiarity and hunger.

Sighing dejectedly, he scans the selection of baked goods

and decides to purchase a few muffins and a loaf of bread with melted cheese.

Maybe he can use the muffins as a token of forgiveness for leaving his friends out on this small venture?

.

The bell on the door tinkles as he exits with a box in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other.

He takes a quick bite, content to have the saltiness of the cheese tingle in his mouth.

.

An unsuccessful mission. Maybe he had conjured the memory of the bakery at random, a way to blindly hold on to something?

He is not sure. He is. Possibly. No. Absolutely yes. He feels dizzy. He thinks the cheese will make its way back up his throat.

.

Trying to rid himself of nausea, he reaches the sidewalk and observes a man getting a bicycle like contraption to work,

his mouth **twisted in a sideways smirk, splitting his cheek open**. **A young girl holds a basket of flowers,**

**the petals plump fingers, the center a cluster of veins, bloated with blood.**

**Workers unload a wagon of boxes reeking of burned flesh, red stains like bleeding clouds on a wooden sky**

_-cold_; his body is frigid despite the warm temperature when his gaze lands on the corner of the street at a storefront.

.

It appears dusty, boarded up by long planks, hiding the shop's name printed on the glass.

He cannot read the note tacked to the door, he assumes it is some kind of eviction notice.

He has seen this before. He _has_ seen_ this _before.

.

A voice echoes in his mind, light and feminine, a whisper caressing his brain,

his neck, like hands smoothing the knots in his back. The voice is not familiar, but then it is, but then it is not.

Holding his packages tightly, he makes his way slowly to the shop,

excusing himself through passersby and a carriage and then he halts abruptly.

He cannot walk to an obviously abandoned shop and not raise suspicion if he thinks to rip the planks off the door,

especially when he is sure he is being followed, despite having not seen anyone out of the ordinary.

.

Fayt quickly makes his way to the store next to it, a meat and fish market already busy and crowded,

the locals calling to the employees for lean cuts of meat.

He pretends to eye the food with interest, and then he sees at the corner of his eye that yes, someone, two guards, watch him.

They do not appear alert nor weary, just mindful of what he does, of what his actions mean.

They are not in their usual armor, but the emblem of the queen, distinct and out of place, are woven onto their tunics.

Fayt is surprised no one has caught on to their presence. The queen's guard must be frequent visitors.

.

He weaves through the crowd, heading deeper into the market,

eyes searching until he spots an open archway employees walk through, pushing trolleys with crates stacked on top,

the smell of fish strong. Fayt wrinkles his nose and walks just a bit closer to the opening.

He purposefully drops the box of muffins on the floor,

smiling in embarrassment to the unshaven old man who stares at him in amusement,

his lips rolling, chewing on something while sitting on a barrel.

They greet each other and Fayt pretends to inspect the contents of the box until the man diverts his attention.

Seizing the chance, he scoops up the box and hurries to the exit, being sure to bend low,

ducking behind stands packed with ice, away from the crowd. As soon as he slips through the archway,

he holds the urge to dash for an exit. Running around will seem suspicious.

.

"_Don't get caught, don't draw attention_." After wandering the storage area lost for a few minutes,

he makes his way to the back alley in relief as flies buzz above two massive dumpsters, the stench of dead animal pungent.

He lifts his hand to his nose and makes his way down the alley, where he reaches a door blocked by planks.

He attempts to look through the gaps in the wood, but cannot make out the interior.

Scrunching his eyebrows, Fayt places the box of muffins and bread on a bin.

.

"_What am I doing?_" Fayt thinks skeptically. "_What's so important about this place?_"

He thinks to abandon this venture, take his food and head back to the castle,

forget he even thought a half baked vision and an ominous feeling were worth pursuing.

"_But they are_." What else can he go on? "_If I find nothing, I lose nothing_. _I'm not hurting anyone._"

.

He kneels and struggles to remove the nailed boards from the door.

After a few attempts of wiggling and pulling, the boards come free. He places them gently on the ground,

does a quick scan of the area to make sure he is alone, and crawls through the small opening. He coughs when he rises,

dust filling his nostrils. He huffs loudly, wipes his nose and stares at his surroundings.

The room smells of stale things, mold, rust, a hint of the fish smell seeping through the walls.

He takes out his communicator and the room fills with a dim glow.

The walls have mounted pull out shelves and drawers. He assumes this to be the back storage room for the shop.

.

Fayt walks to one wall, examining the drawers, his fingers caked in dust as he wipes at the peeling labels to read them.

"Gears, Jump Springs, Glass…" He mutters to himself. The boards creak beneath him,

like an out of tune note on an alarm clock. He circles around the room,

his curiosity lifting nails scattered on tables and caressing a hammer with a broken grip, until he approaches another door.

.

Weariness washes over him as he stares at the frilly pale blue curtain spotted with holes on the door's window.

He strokes the knob, the rust rubbing uncomfortably against his fingertips.

His breath hitches, hearing the knob protest as it turns in his grip …and then the door clicks,

and then the door swings open, and then he steps in, holding the communicator before him.

.

The shop reminds him of an old newspaper clipping; faded, worn, and sealed from the grace and cleanliness of the city.

The walls are decorated with numerous clocks: Coo Coo clocks, Grandfather clocks, ticking clocks of all shapes and sizes,

most of them carved from wood, some plated with filigree and moonstone.

There is a desk on the side wall near the door he just came through, clock parts and tools scattered along the surface,

a stool knocked onto its side just a few feet away. He walks closer, drawn to the items.

He tilts his head, raising the light higher, past black hands, screws, metal numbers…

.

His breath catches, eyes water and widen. There on the top shelf of the desk sits a clock covered in dust,

smelling of cotton balls dipped in sour milk. The glass casing is cracked, the numbers rusted on the cream colored face.

The black crescent shaped hands point to twelve o' clock. _Oh god…No. Oh my god_, he knows this clock. He does not.

He refuses to think it real, but it is there, solid and firm and broken. He had locked this image away,

thinking it nothing but another vision he couldn't figure out, that it meant nothing.

.

It is the same clock from his dream, unchanged and foreboding.

.

"What?" Fayt breathes, the staleness of the air causing his lungs to wrinkle and cough.

His throat tightens as he approaches the desk quickly and sets his communicator down,

the light shining towards the wooden display case at the front. He tries to pick up the clock from where it sits,

but realizes it is nailed to the shelf. A fit of frustration swells in him and he growls, trying to loosen the clock from its confines.

.

"This shouldn't be here!" Fayt snaps, his grip on the clock loosening.

His fingers slide and grasp the table's edge tightly in confusion, too distracted to note the splinters digging into his hands.

He inhales deeply, shifting his gaze away from the desk, to the display case, to the floor, where a white outline is drawn.

Fayt straightens, somewhat at a loss, and finds himself hovering over the drawing.

He kneels, the white substance chalky against his fingers while smudging the lines.

.

And then he sees her, the little girl's body lying neatly on the floor, arms tucked to her sides, encased in the outline.

He backs away in shock and trips over the stool, shoulders slamming painfully against the desk before he hits the floor.

His head is abuzz, his eyes and tattoo aglow, the tick, Tick, TICK, **TICK**,** TICKing** incessant.

.

The room groans, glass shards, clock parts, and tools lifting, returning to their intended places. The girl is not lifeless.

.

_She sat on the stool, bobbing her plaited brunette head while holding a watch in her hands, _

_the clasp encrusted in green stones and the face glittering in the lamp light. _

_She played with the winder, watched the hands jiggle on the face. Her eyes brightened upon hearing the doorbell jingle. _

_She straightened her posture and welcomed the new costumer, who scanned the collection of clocks in mild interest. _

_After a few moments of silence, he was captured by the green glint between her dainty hands. _

_He inquired about the watch, commented on the beauty of its craftsmanship. _

.

"_Can I purchase this?" He asked kindly. He could sense what it had; magic. It was embedded in every surface of Elicoor, _

_deeply rooted in the things people created. He felt it especially strong in this shop. _

.

_She shook her head. _

.

"_Can I have one made just like it?"_

.

"_I'm sorry sir; it's a one of a kind piece. My grandfather made it for me…"_

.

_The Runological symbols carved around the face made the clock parts connect, made the hands travel around the face. _

_The magic within it called to him. _He wanted it.

.

"_I'm guessing he's the owner of the shop? Where is he?"_

.

"_Out of town on business."_

.

"_A little girl left here alone?" _

.

_She nodded shyly, staring at the floor. _

.

He had to have it.

.

"_My grandfather has to keep the shop open; he can't afford to lose a day of business if he isn't in." _

_She smiled. "I'm happy he let me do this for him. He worries, but I'm fine on my own. _

_Anyway, can I help you in some other way? We have a lot of other clocks you might be interested in-"_

.

"_When will he be back?" _

.

"_Possibly next week-"_

.

_The customer became persistent; his eyes narrower, his voice a deeper kind of sweetness, _

_a candied apple stuffed with hardened sugar, lovely to look at, difficult to chew. _

_.  
_

_The girl finally allowed him to see the watch up close after much persuasion and placed the object across the counter top. _

_However, as soon as he went to touch it, the girl clung onto the clasp timidly. _

.

_He can see the magic curl around the hands, making them align perfectly with the numbers, _

_how they make the face and stones glow like acid. Give it to me, something whispers in his mind, voice crooked like his thoughts. _

I have to have it.

.

_The customer suddenly clasped the girl's wrists, startling her as she attempted to pull away. _

_Her skin was soft under his fingers, warm, inviting, pulsing with magic. _Give it to me.

.

"_Please let go!" She shouted, frightened. _

.

"_Pretty hands. Delicate, slender." He answered, forgetting what had made him so mesmerized in the first place. _

.

"_Just take the watch! Please, take it and go!"_

.

Give it to me; give it to me!

.

"_What makes you think I just want the watch?"_

.

_He shifted, suddenly behind the counter. Her eyes widened in panic, her hands wringing the fabric of her worn dress, legs wobbly. _

_She shook her head, her back digging into a side drawer behind the display case. _

_His arms loomed above her and he bent forward until he was face to face with her. _

_She looked as delicious as the watch.  
_

.

"_You know what makes me more annoyed than little girls refusing to give me pretty things?" _

_He placed his pointer finger on her forehead, watched it slide down her cheek. "Pointless death."  
_.

_The girl fell into his waiting embrace. He patted her hair delicately as they lowered to the floor. _

_He whispered in her ear, muttering a language she didn't understand and she stilled, arms limp, skin colder, emptied, drained._

.

Give me, give me, give me, give me, give me-

.

_It is mine. _

.

Fayt gasps, choking on air, coughing violently. His eyes throb and he feels a burning of a different kind, coming from his pack.

He throws the pack off his shoulders and rummages through it frantically,

discovering what he searches for at the bottom, completely concealed by clutter.

.

The green stoned watch comes out of the pack in shaking fingers,

as beautiful and full of magic as when he first saw it, quietly _tick, tick, tick, tick, tick_-

.

* * *

_Tomorrow is the fourth of July, fireworks! :D Anyway, I was hoping to have this chapter out sooner, but I went through massive revisions. It was torture honestly, but I'm glad I went through it. The next two chapters are already typed out, I just have to touch them up, which I will do on either Sat. or Mon. since I'll be spending time with a friend the next few days. I've been getting into drawing again, so that's been taking up a lot of my time as well. I seriously miss drawing, especially in color pencil. _

_Thanks for the reviews and your continued support!_

_-EggPan_


	19. XV

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean. **

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**XV**

.**  
**

Water sloshes as legs shift, knees peaking above soapy water.

Wet fingers grip the tub's rim loosely, knuckles pale pink.

Sighing, Sophia gazes at the tiles in the dome ceiling, cut in intricate patterns of sea green diamonds.

Candles are set between windows circling the room on thin poles. Elegant, simple, comfortable.

.

"How am I innocent?" Sophia whispers. She was never cut out for war,

unprepared and untrained, thrown into the thick of clashing swords and gunfire.

The urge to protect her loved ones grew fiercely strong with every life she witnessed taken in battle.

She shivers, thoughts drifting to the first person she ever killed at Moon Base,

remembering his fingers frozen on the trigger as the ice spell took hold of him.

She watched him shatter into pieces of ice, scattered across the floor like her reality, broken apart.

She could not see what he was looking at due to his goggles, but imagines it must have been her.

Did those eyes express surprise, aggression, sadness over the loved ones he would never see again?

.

She huddles closer to the tub's edge, chin deep in water.

Who was Maria trying to fool? She lost her innocence long ago.

.

**BANG BANG **

.

Sophia gasps, thoughts disrupted by the constant banging on the door.

She steps out of the tub quickly while running her fingers through clumps of damp hair.

"Yes!?" She shouts, just able to throw on a robe before two knights burst into the bathroom,

a maid trailing behind them, her head bowed and hands wringing her apron.

.

"Get dressed." One of the knights orders firmly.

.

"What?" Sophia asks stupidly, mystified by their sudden appearance.

.

"Get dressed!" The knight repeats, harshly grabbing her arm and pushing her in the direction of the maid.

"Help her. Make it quick."

.

"What's going on?" Sophia yells in surprise, the maid grasping her shoulder, gently telling her to stay calm.

The knights do nothing to answer her question as they walk out and stand guard by the door.

~o~

Cliff glares at the table for the time he has been stuck in the dining room, still clad in his night clothes;

a wife beater and baggy black slacks. His eyes lift, landing on Maria, who tugs at a sleeve of her over sized t-shirt.

She places her thumb beneath her chin, a strained and sleepy look in her eyes.

He knows she does this when she is anxious, about to chew her thumb out of habit.

.

"Did they tell you anything?" Cliff allows himself a bit of relief upon hearing her question.

The thought of Maria never talking to him is upsetting.

He still is unsure of how to approach her about his upcoming marriage.

How to even mention this situation to Mirage? He could not. He does not want her to worry.

.

"Absolutely nothing, just dragged me here." Cliff answers gruffly, tousling his hair just as the doors burst open,

revealing a struggling Sophia against the knights' grip.

"Hey, let go of her!" He barks, striding quickly over to them, swiftly taking Sophia into his protective embrace.

.

"What's going on? Is this how you treat your guests?" Maria demands heatedly, standing beside Cliff.

.

"Be silent. You do not demand answers, especially in the position your in," growls the knight.

.

"What're you talking about?" Cliff sneers but the knight remains silent. "Want me to beat the answers out of you!?"

.

"Don't start trouble." Maria whispers to him, peering wearily at the knights.

"You'll make things worse." She squeezes Cliff's shoulder, the gesture doing enough to quell his anger,

if only momentarily. The knights position themselves outside the double doors.

.

"What's going on?" Sophia questions, rubbing her arm, shoulders and hair sopping wet from her bath.

.

"I would like to ask you that very question." Nel, who appears eerily furious, enters with Clair beside her.

.

"Is this you're doing?" Maria demands.

.

"Of course it is, not that I have a choice in the matter." Nel grits out.

.

"Where's Fayt and Albel? Are you bringing them here too?" Sophia wonders.

.

"How about you tell me where they are," snaps Nel.

.

"We don't know! We'd thought they would be dragged here like the rest of us."

Cliff retorts, mimicking her snippet tone.

.

"We'll find Wicked eventually. I would be more concerned about Fayt," Nel pauses, narrowing her eyes,

"since he has been missing since yesterday and there was an attempt on a man's life in town.

He described Fayt as his attacker."

~o~

Albel's body presses against a wall. He breathes inaudibly as clanking metal and heavy footfalls past him.

He clenches his jaw tightly, gripping the Crimson Scourge, ready to attack anyone who discovers his hiding place.

He had overheard one of the knights, just moments after emerging from the training area;

report the arrest of his fellow comrades, sequestering them in the dining room due to an incident in town.

They are on a manhunt for him, especially Fayt.

.

"What did he do?" Albel seethes, scanning the area before stealthily gliding down the corridor,

checking every corner for a surprise possibly waiting for him.

~o~

By noon, his search throughout the castle for Fayt yields no results.

He decides it is time to leave for the streets of Aquios, knowing the city will be crawling with patrolmen.

He makes his way to the lower levels until he reaches the kitchens, where a couple of cooks,

surrounding torn bread pieces with butter, cracked teacups and a cooling kettle of water,

talk in hushed whispers about the apparent scavenger hunt, for what however, they are unsure.

.

He weaves his way between racks of spices, eggs, and dried strips of meat,

melding with the shadows until he slips into a narrow spiraling stairwell.

He needs to enter the city unnoticed and find Fayt before the queen does.

.

He exits the stairwell to the servants' corridors running beneath the main floor,

a thick lone door to his immediate right, a pantry to his front, and a hallway to his left,

where the sounds of giggling women draw closer. Crouching behind a few barrels in the pantry;

Albel listens to the women pass by. They laugh about a maid's ripped skirt,

as their feet shuffle up the stairs. He waits for the chattering to fade,

then surveys the area before heading for the door, pulling it open as it squeaks on rusty hinges.

His eyes take a moment to adjust to the sunlight before analyzing the massive garden he stands in.

.

The outer parameter is lined with wide columns laced with vines and ivy,

and clusters of grapes curling between the planks of a narrow ceiling.

The dirt is divided into neat rows throughout the plot of land with wooden signs stuck into the ground,

identifying differing plots as vegetables, fruits, herbs, and spices. He is satisfied to find no servants in the area.

.

Albel stays close to the columns, tip toeing through dirt, being sure to stay out of sight.

He happens upon a patch of red berries, small flowers sprouting from its curled leaves.

.

Eyebrows furrowing, he frowns when his shoes start to create a low squelching noise.

He assumes to have stepped on a few berries. Grunting in disapproval,

he continues to the exit until he notices a patch of dirt dampened darker than the rest.

He assumes it is berry juice seeping through the ground since it has not rained these past couple of days,

but upon closer inspection, the smell of berries hits his nose…and something else.

.

"_Why is that smell here?"_ Turning around abruptly, he partially unsheathes his sword,

scanning the area for any immediate danger, following the path of damp earth

until flecks of red coat a section of leaves and grass, and then he sees it hidden by overgrowth.

.

The last time he remembers his heart coming close to failing was when his father died.

His heart reacts similar upon inspecting a body face first on the ground

-a very still pale body-a very still pale body with a bloody shirt and blue hair.

.

"Fayt?" Albel calls quietly, rushing over, the discomfort of berries stuck to his shoes completely forgotten.

He kneels and checks for wounds, discovering an obvious slash to Fayt's back,

having ripped through his shirt, partially exposing his tattoo.

Albel turns him carefully sideways, unable to find any other wounds but the scratch marks on his face.

.

"Fayt? Fayt!" His heart swells with panic,

but he swallows the fear and tells his heart to _shut the fuck up_ and _calm down_.

This is nothing new, this is familiar.

.

But this is Fayt, bloody and just barely breathing.

Had one of the knights found him and got into some kind of scuffle? If that were the case,

there would have been more knights combing the area. He has only seen less than a dozen in the past hour.

He tries to shake Fayt awake but does not receive a response. He growls, knowing he is wasting precious time.

Anyone can discover them.

.

As gently as he can, Albel carries Fayt in his arms and hides behind one of the columns,

providing some cover from any wandering eyes peering out the castle windows.

He rips part of Fayt's shirt into two strips to clean and temporarily bandage the wound.

.

"Get the hell up, you idiotic fool!" Albel hisses roughly into Fayt's ear, causing him to stir.

Fayt's face strains with pain, his eyes refusing to open. "I said wake UP!"

He speaks louder but quiets quickly, covering Fayt's moans with his hand.

Albel clenches his jaw as he stands up, forcing a barely awake Fayt to his feet.

"If you're able to listen, listen well.

You're injured and in any way I attempt to carry you will open the wound further on your back,

so start walking _now_."

.

Albel hobbles Fayt across the garden to the castle.

Freeing one hand, he opens the door slowly and checks for signs of danger before entering.

He remembers his previous trips to the castle; lurking down hallways,

attempting to discover secret passages, never wasting an opportunity to know his enemy.

Piecing together a map in his mind, the servants routes come to the forefront, the paths familiarized.

He walks forward; glad to have not spent his time idle during his stay.

Walking around the castle to refresh his memory has been of good use to him.

The question now: where exactly is he going?

~o~

The pen scribbles hurriedly on paper, halts, continues in a slower motion.

The doctor leans her head in her hand, eyes darting back and forth across the page.

She is unaware of what she writes, her thoughts focusing on Fayt.

.

It has been a few hours since she was informed about Fayt being linked to an assault in town.

It cannot have been him; she is reluctant to believe so. The man must have misidentified Fayt as his attacker-

.

The door bursts open and she gasps, dropping her pen, surprised to find Albel in the doorway,

a half conscious Fayt drooping to the floor like a sopping wet curtain.

.

"You're the one that gave Fayt that absurd speech about candles and meditation, aren't you?" Albel asks roughly.

.

"Wh-" She pauses, recovering from her initial shock. "What has happened!?" She demands.

.

"Fix him!" Albel barks, lying Fayt on his stomach on the bed.

The doctor pushes Albel aside, inspecting the wound and removing the make shift bandages.

.

"What happened?" She repeats. A soft blue light emits from her palm, coiling its way through blood and open flesh.

She cannot heal it completely or else the skin will not reform properly, leaving a scar.

.

"I don't know what the hell happened, just wake him up!" Albel growls, pacing back and forth.

.

"I…" Fayt mutters, shifting from side to side, suddenly disturbed.

The doctor tries to quiet him, but he only squirms beneath her grasp. "I didn't mean too…I didn't mean too…"

.

Albel tilts his head, unsure of what to make of Fayt's words.

.

"Are you aware there is a warrant for Fayt's arrest?" The doctor questions, tone cautious.

.

"I figured as much with the queen having a fit over it."

.

"Do you know what exactly for?"

.

"Does this look like the time to be guess-"

.

"You don't _know_?" The doctor interrupts, gaze focused on Fayt.

.

"Some kind of assault charge. It doesn't seem as large a matter as the queen is making it out to be."

.

"That isn't just it." The doctor shakes her head.

.

"There's always _something _more." Albel growls, heading for the door before the doctor can give him further details.

"I'll return. I have to make sure I didn't leave a blood trail. Do not tell anyone of his whereabouts,

or I will gladly hang you from the ceiling using your pretty white robes as a noose!"

Albel quickly departs before the doctor can protest.

~o~

_Stumbling aimlessly, he was blind. Twisted bodies crowded his vision. _

_They murmured at how easy it was to rip his soul apart due to the burned scars marring the surface. _

_He lifted his hands in front of him and pleaded for the voices to stop, for his vision to clear, for the whimpering to subside. _

.

_I can't see, I can't see-_

.

_He screamed, frustrated and out of synch. The visions doubled, tripled, blurred, tripled, doubled, cleared. _

_He fell to the ground, exhausted, shoulders squeezing into his neck. _

_He took huge gulps of air,the need to vomit urgent. _

_He waited a few minutes for the feeling to subside, shoulders drooping slowly and arms shaking. _

_Sitting on his knees, he rubbed his face, sweaty and cold against his palms, strands stuck to his forehead. _

_The back of his hand was smeared in blood and he ignored it, ignored everything. _

.

~o~

A bowl of pink water and a pile of gauze sits on a chair across from the doctor,

who cleans dried blood from Fayt's back.

.

Her fingers graze his clothes, her thoughts stuck in a hard place.

To harbor a supposed criminal is going against the queen, but reporting Fayt does not feel right either.

Her first instinct has always been to heal, to not pass judgment when injuries could be damning evidence.

.

In the midst of deciding the best course of action, she notices curious markings peaking through his tattered shirt.

She takes a thin blade and cuts through the fabric, parting the ripped remains to the side,

exposing his back completely.

.

Those markings look familiar.

.

Hurrying her movements, but still keeping in mind to be gentle,

she rubs more of the blood off. Curved symbols reveal themselves,

arching into three circles cut in the center by a strip of writing

beginning at the nape of Fayt's neck to just above his tail bone.

.

She studies his back for a few moments and then a distinct click resounds in her mind like a door locking,

trapping her inside a cramped space with an answer she refuses to acknowledge.

She quickly backs away, dropping the reddened rag to the floor.

.

The ominous feeling returns to her and she sees it,

the markings on Fayt's back identical to the magical signature she has been looking for these past tense days.

.

"_Apris_..." She whispers breathlessly, clasping her hands together, stepping closer.

"Oh no…" Her fingers ghost above the markings disbelievingly, frightened to touch them.

.

"You know." She stills upon hearing Fayt's voice, cracked and more damaged than she has ever heard it.

He shifts his head, eyes dull and lifeless, peering at her.

.

"Oh Fayt." She retracts her hand quickly.

.

"You _know_." Fayt's eyebrows furrow deeply as he pushes himself up,

the strain causing him to gasp painfully, the mattress swallowing his hands as he presses against it.

.

"Why?" The doctor asks. "Why harm innocent people?"

.

"Nothing was enough." Fayt whispers, sitting up.

"Nothing was ever enough." He stares at her with an empty gaze.

~o~

Albel is satisfied to not have found traces of their escape from the garden.

According to the knight he eavesdropped on while returning to the infirmary,

most of the city had been searched for Fayt, and seeing as they found none, within the hour,

the whole castle will be swarming with knights and swords. The queen will not want Fayt slip out of her fingers-

.

The door to the infirmary is wide open.

.

Surprised, Albel rushes in, eyeing the broken vials on the shelves, leaking fluids onto the desk below.

The mattress is upturned, the sheets a discolored waterfall of pink tumbling to the floor,

where the doctor lies, facing away from him, her clothes mangled.

He approaches cautiously, checking for a pulse, which beats surely under his fingertips.

.

There is no sign of Fayt anywhere.

.

He turns the doctor slowly onto her back, noticing a deep cut on her temple, staining her hair bloody blue berries.

The bleeding needs to be stopped. He hurriedly places the mattress back on the bed frame,

and then carries her to the bed. Spotting the gauze strips on the floor,

he picks up a few and sets to work cleaning and bandaging her head as fast as possible.

Time is slipping away and he does not have time to properly treat her. He has to find Fayt.

~o~

Closing the door quietly before hurrying down the hall, Albel immediately notices blood stains on the marble.

Had Fayt been the one to attack her or had someone found them and tried to take Fayt into custody?

Where did he go? Had he been further injured? Was Fayt out looking for him?

Did he know about the warrant? Was he-

.

Albel growls, unable to think straight. It is in these times his mind would be clear and already formulating a plan.

However, despite his sharpened senses and his careful and quick steps,

the sudden memory of lips on lips and tangled limbs threaten to smash his concentration to pieces.

The kiss he and Fayt shared seems like ages ago, but the memory refuses vehemently to be erased.

It demands to be remembered in vivid detail, especially the feel of Fayt's body pressed against his own,

the kiss hard and demanding. He has to take a second to stop walking.

.

The memories of Fayt's skin on his fingertips, of his untamed hair,

of his tattoo, a provocative strip down his back, overwhelm his senses.

.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. When his mind quiets,

the implications of Fayt at risk has taken a completely new meaning to him,

of why he pushes so hard to keep Fayt safe.

.

To lose Fayt to his powers, which he knows is partly to blame for Fayt's current predicament,

means to lose the memory of that kiss, of the feelings he gave into, if only for a moment,

because once Fayt has lost, he would never completely come back to what he once was.

That kiss would be overshadowed by a stranger with malicious eyes sharp and fractured like broken emeralds,

his lips no longer a soft smile, but a crooked grin never to look right on a face once innocent and empty of battle scars.

~o~

_**With pointed toes, the queen's feet glide forward, floating above marble.**_

_**Splotches of faded green, yellow, red shift across her dress from the stain glass windows bright with sunlight.**_

_**She approaches him, readying her staff to pierce his stomach.**_

_**Her mouth is stone shut but her grey white eyes speak of repentance.**_

_**She will never forgive him, this trust betrayed and twisted due to his foolishness.**_

_**The staff draws closer, closer and he screams, thinking his heart will burst if poked,**_

_**blood spilling, his apologies stained darker then death-**_

.

Unmoving, the statue's face is neutral in the sight of his quaking fingers and unsteady legs.

He stumbles backward, away from the staff's sharp tip, legs buckling once they smack into a bench.

He immediately quiets upon realizing he is in the castle's sanctuary, empty of people.

Blood dots the base of the statue. He has to get rid of it, the evidence, the sin.

Stumbling to the floor, the nearby candles flicker, flames shaking their heads as if to say _no, no, no_.

He crawls forward and his fingers smear, draw whirls upon whirls of blood becoming dryer and dryer.

He presses his palm flat into the mess, mouth hanging open.

The blood chips but most of it will not come off the floor. He huffs, squeezing his eyes shut,

his back beyond the point of itching, replaced by a searing burn he can only hope will subside on its own.

.

"I'm soo sorwy." He slurs, unable to get a firm grasp of language, of the voices shutting out his thoughts.

"I'm so sorwwy." He repeats endlessly, shaking from the strain of holding himself up.

.

How could he have been so oblivious to the people he had silenced so easily?

How could he have left no traces of his crimes? How many?

.

How many had there been, staring into his eyes and begging to be spared?

.

"Fayt Leingod!" The words are booming bombs dropping onto Fayt's shoulders, causing him to sink lower.

"I come to hear a scream to find the traitor hiding in the most holy of places? How appalling!"

Fayt tenses, recognizing the voice, hearing the swishing of robes against the marble.

.

The new comer's magical energy is a black hole vacuuming all the heat from the room,

leaving Fayt cold and disorientated. He wants to feel warm again, he needs it.

"Stay away," Fayt mutters, attempting to block out the warmth. He is so _cold_.

.

"It will be pleasurable to watch the lot of you get thrown into the dungeons.

I am surprised the queen allowed you to roam our country so freely for this long."

.

"Shut up." Fayt growls, the need to vomit stuck in his throat.

.

"The queen is right to be weary of outsiders, they are a threat, _you_ are a threat to our way of life."

The tone is filled with disgust and a hint of satisfaction.

.

"Shut UP!" Fayt's shout is rough like a sword scraping nosily against stone.

His mouth hangs open and a constant ringing develops in his ears.

.

"I will bring you to the queen myself." The voice is suddenly by his side, a low whisper, hot and gruff against his ear.

.

Fayt's brain buzzes and pops.

.

The queen…the judgment…the prison…_his death_. He would never see his friends again or Albel.

He would never have Albel.

.

Fayt's arm is tugged roughly and he snaps. Spinning around, he glowers darkly at the man,

his lustrous irises seemingly seeping out from his eye sockets and onto his face,

splintering until they disappear into his shirt's collar.

A gasp is barely audible as uncoordinated fingers dig deep into skin,

nails like thin strips of metal easily scratching his cheeks open. They drag downwards to a strong neck.

Hands push against hands. Fayt pummels the man to the floor. He draws enough blood to weaken him,

watch him crumble, tears at his robes, his hair, lashes at anything he can hit and cut down,

unmindful of his own fingernails breaking with the force.

He cannot be caught, he cannot be caught,_ he cannot be caught!_

.

"Fayt!" The new voice sounds distant and muffled, transforming into an ear splitting ring.

For a moment he recognizes it, but the blood distracts him and he continues his assault.

Hands grab him and a pulse of magic emits from his body, forcing them away.

There is a crash, a garbled string of cussing. A few moments and the hands are back on him,

successfully dragging him away from the bleeding body.

He struggles against the firm grip encircling his shoulders while shouting and flailing.

They have him, they will force him to confess, he will rot in a prison cell forever. He is done.

.

"What are you doing? Pull yourself together! Fayt! Fayt!"

Through the hurricane of disjointed thoughts, his name being called returns some of the sanity lost.

He is spun around and stares wildly into the agitated and surprised eyes of Albel, who shakes him repeatedly.

Fayt hisses as he scratches Albel's arm,

five reddened lines streaking down the skin while the other fingers attempt to dig into the metal of his gauntlet.

.

"He knows! I can't let him take me!" Fayt manages to shout, struggling against Albel's grip.

.

"Calm the fuck down!"

.

"I killed all those people! I'm the one they're after!" This confession causes Albel's grip to loosen momentarily,

tighten again when Fayt attempts to break free.

.

Albel wrestles Fayt to the ground, placing his knee on his chest to hold him in place.

He quickly takes out his sword, spins it in his hand, and hits Fayt on the head with the butt of it twice.

.

"_Where am I? Why can't I see again?_"

.

* * *

**A thousand times over I apologize for the late update. No point in me making any promises about how often I'll update, I don't want to give you false hope, lol. I'm pretty much full time now at work (Promotion, yay boy), so getting to this story is a bit difficult since I'm exhausted once I get home. The next chapter is already typed out, it just needs editing. This chapter seems a bit wonky to me since its been awhile, but I think its because I over edited on a tired brain, haha. Anyway, this story has definitely been insane to tackle, but I'll continue to plow on through! I finally found my list of notes I made about all the previous chapters, just key points I needed to keep in mind. I thought I lost that list forever! Thank god I found it. And a random question; when I use to update before, for some reason, the final version on would never let exclamation points and question marks appear beside each other, and now they do. Has anyone ever gotten that before? Thanks for the support and love.**

**-Eggpan  
**


	20. XVI

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean. **

* * *

**Crippled Clock Work**

**XVI**

Fayt's hands are thick pages in a book;

wrinkles undecipherable sentences, blood a plot twist in his story.

The blood should not be there, tangled in torn skin embedded in his fingernails,

highlighting the wrinkles in his palms like a red marker, crossing out the happy endings.

Albel wants to wipe them clean, erase the developing story in hopes of beginning a new one.

~o~

Placing Fayt's newly bandaged hand on the bed, Albel pulls up a chair and sits.

His metal fingers dig into his arm, the pressure of metal to skin heightening his awareness.

He had treated Fayt's wounds within the given time constraints, casting a weak cure spell to accelerate the healing.

.

While watching Fayt sleep, Albel had weighed his options.

He thought to escape, but during his last trip of intelligence gathering,

he discovered the castle was sealed off by order of the queen. She must know about the body in the chapel,

why else for the order and the unbearably increased presence of the royal guard? He rubs his face in agitation.

The opportunity to escape has vanished. They are trapped.

.

Although, Albel knows he can find a way out of the castle alone.

He can return to Airyglyph and resume his duties as general, train soldiers and patrol icy mountains,

far away for anyone to get his hands on him. The King of Airyglyph will protect him from the queen.

It can be easy, detaching himself from this whole situation but he has feelings to consider and Fayt…_he has Fayt_.

.

His heart sinks like a sunset never to rise again, the light in a vast sea of hope snuffing out. "_What an idiot_," he thinks.

Of all the trouble to cause, Fayt had to mix his problems with royalty, and no one ever wants to mess with the royals.

He has a few ideas as to how the queen will handle Fayt's crimes against Aquaria. None of them are favorable.

.

Shifting in his seat, he stares at Fayt's chest, rising and lowering like a fire bellows pumping air into flaming coals.

What will he be like when he awakens: calm or that raving lunatic Albel knocked out a short time earlier, wild eyed and frantic?

The odds of the latter option occurring are high, too high to risk escape.

He does not want to place more innocent people in the path of an unstable man.

.

He sneers in disgust. Unstable or not, Fayt violated one of Albel's sacred principles; avoiding needless killing.

Snuffing out the lives of innocents in moments of madness makes betrayal sink deeper than anger.

Fayt had _known_ something was wrong with his powers, and his attempts to remedy the problem had not been enough.

He had not pushed hard enough.

.

Betrayal stings. Albel had _known_ something was wrong with Fayt and had not done enough to resolve the problem.

He trusted Fayt's reassurances that he had it handled. Apparently, he did not.

.

He glares at his claw, imaging the sharp digits wrapping tightly around Fayt's throat.

He thinks to give Fayt a far worse punishment than what the queen has in mind,

but he cannot abandon the troubled young man he has become overly protective of.

The thought gnaws at him, conflicts with his strict way of life.

.

He stares at the ceiling, a headache starting to form.

Fayt must not die, but he must not go unpunished either. What to do in such a predicament?

.

Breathing deeply, Albel closes his eyes and retreats into his mind,

imaging himself at the peak of the tallest mountain in Airyglyph, gazing below at the castle, nestled in the folds of plains.

Clouds hang heavy in the sky, their soft white bellies bloated with snow.

Then he sees it, snowflakes drifting leisurely to the ground, covering jagged rocks and travel worn dirt paths.

They land in his hair, on his shoulders like gentle fingers caressing his scalp, his muscles, easing the tension from his body.

The snow blankets his questions, thoughts, and plans. He is numb from the cold and it is peaceful.

It is quiet. Aquaria is far away, as is Fayt. His mind drifts and he waits for something to happen…

.

…and then they come.

~o~

"How bold." Clair whispers, staring at the pool of blood at the foot of the statue.

With a loose fist, she traces a circle above her heart, presses the back of her thumb to her forehead,

and then kisses her knuckles; the sign of the Holy Mother. She turns to gaze at Nel, who kneels before the body.

Clair notes Nel has been in this position ever since they arrived. "Staring at him won't change anything."

.

"What a mess." Nel mutters darkly and stands, gesturing for the pair of guards and healers by the pews to come forward.

.

Clair wonders if she refers to the body or something else entirely.

.

"Florine…is she dead too?" Nel questions as the guards lift the body onto a stretcher and cover it with a sheet.

They depart, a silent procession walking down the center aisle, leaving Nel and Clair alone in the chapel.

.

"No. Her head wound needs stitches. The rest of her injuries are minor. I'm unsure of when she will awaken." Clair reports,

eyeing her companion carefully. "Nothing was taken from the infirmary, it was mostly broken items thrown askew."

She knows Nel can never completely shut out her anger, but to express it is something she does rarely.

To see her eyes filled with it makes her cautious.

.

Clair has never been close to Fayt or his companions,

but to know Nel trusted them enough with her life has made them a tolerable presence.

So what kind of betrayal is this? To see death hit so close to home, to her trusted friend, upsets her.

.

"This is unacceptable." Nel whispers, grasping the blade's hilt tightly.

She focuses her attention on the two guards who have just entered. "You better have something worth reporting."

.

"We have found the remaining party." The guard replies, tone steady, bowing deeply on one knee.

"They were discovered in one of the guest bedrooms. One of them is wounded. They are being escorted to the dungeon now."

.

"Wounded…" Nel trails off. Clair wonders what she is thinking. "Are the wounds recent?"

.

"Yes." The guard replies.

.

Clair steps forward to take charge.

.

"Well done. Order the patrol groups to return to regular duty.

Be sure to have our most trusted men heavily guarding the dungeon.

Tell the medical examiner it is of the utmost importance to have a full autopsy report as soon as possible…

and have this cleaned up." Clair points to the blood on the floor. "Inform the queen of this news.

If she has any need for us, we will be making our way to the guests' new sleeping quarters."

.

"Let us go." Nel's voice is weighty as stone as she follows the guards out the doors.

.

Clair reaches out to her, and then withdraws her hand, letting it fall to her side.

She must be sure to remind Nel of the importance of duty over emotions.

~o~

Cliff bangs his palms against the bars, glaring at the guards, who pass by and pay no mind to his presence.

Sophia emerges beside him, biting her lips. He sighs and releases his death grip on the bars,

turning around to lean on them, crossing his arms and surveying the area.

.

They were shoved into a prison cell under the castle, every surface either iron or stone.

A meager bed, as comfortable as a thin layer of cotton on cardboard, hangs from a chain jutting from the wall where Maria sits,

her wary eyes trained on him. What have they been guilty of aside from ignorance to crimes plaguing Aquaria?

Cliff swallows. What is Fayt guilty of, if anything at all?

.

A sharp gasp answers his question. Instantaneously, Maria springs forward and Sophia steps closer to the gate.

Cliff twists his head to be greeted by the sight of Albel, who stands tall, expression blank as he is handled by a pair of guards.

He is shoved into the cell across from the trio. The blood stains on Albel's clothes are not worth noting.

What is surprising is the state they find Fayt in. He is hardly able to keep himself upright,

the guards nearly dragging him to the cell. He stumbles; clothes matted with blood and hair wild.

.

"Fayt?" Sophia squeaks, pressing her face into the bars as if she can bend,

contort the skin and bone to squeeze through the gaps. Fayt does not answer. He is thrown into Albel,

who catches him easily and eases him onto the bed. The gate locks and the guards stand on either side of the cell.

Cliff tilts his head from side to side, attempting to get a better view of Fayt, but the latter lifts his arm to cover his face,

hiding himself from prying eyes, and is still afterwards.

.

"What happened to him!?" Sophia demands, straining to keep panic out of her voice,

eyes glued to the prone figure on the bed. Cliff places a hand on her shoulder,

his firm grip forcing her to calm down. "Albel, what's wrong with him?"

.

Cliff watches Maria stand beside Sophia as they whisper to one another quietly.

She has not said a word to him since their detainment in the dining room. The distance between them is vast,

wide as a chasm with no definite end, that he cannot think of a way to bridge it.

And if he can, what makes him think she will not take a hammer and knock it down?

"_What am I suppose to do with someone who doesn't want me to get married?_"

.

Footsteps interrupt his thoughts. Nel and Clair appear, faces stern.

Nel immediately ignores Cliff and darts straight for Albel and Fayt.

.

"Who wants to be the first to tell their story?" Nel's voice is deceptively gentle.

Cliff knows it is a means to ease the thoughts of a detainee, give them the benefit of the doubt.

However, any convincing of their innocence will be for nothing. He can see Nel will make them squirm.

She is not their ally in this moment, for that Cliff is certain. "No one at all?" She growls, scowling at every face her eyes land on.

"I guess each of you will have your time to present some poor excuse of an alibi."

.

"Nel." Maria finally speaks, appearing unfazed by their current predicament.

"If you want us to give you our part of the story, why not explain the entirety of yours since you seem to know all the details.

We still don't understand what exactly is going on."

.

"It's not as much as I would like to know." Nel scoffs and approaches the gate, where Maria stands motionless.

.

Cliff has not seen this side of Maria for some time; statuesque, emptied of laughter and mischievous eyes.

She is all business, just as she had been during her leadership at Quark.

She was a wonderful leader, Cliff thinks, not as reckless and hot headed as he had been.

.

"Fayt Leingod is guilty of murder-" Nel bites out slowly, evenly, and for a second,

Cliff sees the air of calm crack before it mends itself around Maria. "-and assaulting loyal subjects to the queen.

He took the prime opportunity to strike, when most of our forces were out scouting in the city. A stupid move."

She returns her gaze to Fayt, who still pays no attention to his surroundings. "A _very _stupid move!"

Nel shouts, her steady voice chipping at the edges. Cliff has never seen Nel this undone,

thinking her so stung by the thought of betrayal. Has she ever trusted anyone else before they met, aside from Clair?

.

"How do you know it was him?" Maria questions.

.

"Don't be so idiotic, whose blood do you think stains his clothes!?"

.

"He could have been protecting him-" Maria counters.

.

"By ripping someone apart like a ravaged animal possessed!?"

.

They hear a snort and the group turns to Albel, who leans against the wall, seemingly amused by the situation.

.

"Is there something of amusement you wish to share with us Wicked?"

Nel lifts an eyebrow, silently challenging him to retort with a snide remark. He remains silent, staring heatedly into her eyes.

Cliff is unsure of what silent conversation passes between them.

.

"The queen wishes a word with you first, Maria Traydor." Nel announces in distaste.

A guard fetches Maria from the cell and as she walks out, she smiles reassuringly to Sophia, but does not even glance at Cliff.

He is not sure if he should feel hurt or insulted.

~o~

The grand carpet is not enough to quiet Maria's footfalls pounding loudly against her ears.

She is sure to hear a ringing soon deep within her earlobe, drowning out every other sound, every other thought.

She forces herself to focus on her surroundings.

.

The first thing that strikes Maria, as she enters the audience chamber, is the queen swathed in heavy blue velvet,

protruding like a sharp thorn from the throne. The queen's eyes are blueberries injected with poison.

Her lips are parted as if ready to snap with accusations, ready to eat answers.

Maria thinks she is the first course to a long laborious meal; going to be pulled apart,

pecked at while the rest of her meat rots at the ends of the queen's dress.

.

The queen nods, signaling for the guards to step back, leaving space for Maria to breathe,

but not enough space to think she can escape. Maria bows carefully, head low, waiting for instruction. She must tread lightly.

.

"Still exhibiting manners?" The queen asks and Maria is surprised to find her tone light,

airy as if addressing the meal arrangements for a fine dinner. She stands upright.

"It seems meaningless after you have shown your true colors."

.

"You're quick to make assumptions, your majesty." Maria replies automatically before she can catch her words.

She hears feet advance on her, but the queen lifts her hand and she knows the guards stand down,

returning to their original posts. "For someone who doesn't want us involved in the affairs of this world,

it looks like we've had targets on our backs for some time,

like you've wanted to blame us for any evil that couldn't be explained." Maria continues in a steady tone.

.

"My concerns are not baseless now that your friend has been discovered for what he truly is." The queen responds.

.

"Fayt is a hero, not a monster." Maria retaliates. "He would never harm anyone.

What makes you think he is the person you seek in your investigation?

.

"Magistrate Laselle is dead, Maria Traydor!" The queen's voice is black, bellowing, rattling the window panes.

Maria's shoulders stiffen at the news. Now she understands why the queen's appearance unsettles her.

The Magistrate was always a constant presence, hovering over the queen's shoulder, her second shadow.

Without his snide remarks, the room appears emptier. How she had not noticed him absent before surprises her.

"Does the blood on Fayt Leingod's clothing have a deeper significance to you now?"

.

Maria curls her hands into tight fists. Fayt could not have possibly done such a thing. She cannot comprehend it.

.

"Why would he do that!? Why would any of us have reason to harm your people, let alone a magistrate!?" Maria shouts,

approaching the stairs leading to the throne. She is tired of being tested, doubted, and questioned.

She is fed up with the queen.

.

The guards move quickly, two spears crossing each other, blocking her path.

Maria stares intensely at the queen and thinks she is just like the military leaders on Earth;

crushing and controlling anything they think can overpower them.

"You owe us a debt! We saved your world and you throw us into a cage on the pretense of keeping everyone safe!?"

.

"Do not think my country owes you a debt for a war you brought here.

A war that brought foreign ships, advanced technology, and killed my people." The queen's tone hardens.

.

"A war including the universe is a problem for all planets."

.

"Not for those your council deems 'underdeveloped.'" The queen responds.

The statement catches Maria off guard. It is a term she has heard countless terms before,

but she is unsure of how the queen learned of it. Did one of the queen's spies overhear one of her companion's conversations?

.

The queen's resentment makes 'underdeveloped' sound more of an insult rather than a means to categorize time periods on each planet.

.

"I know the limits of our country and from what I have seen;

we do not have the appropriate level of technology to be adequately prepared to handle matters outside of our world.

If your leaders see it fit to keep us out of their war because of this very fact, than you should have thought to do the same.

We are not a planet for those to seek vacation or conflicts on. I have been too lenient."

The queen stare is steel, piercing through Maria, whose hands grasp the spears.

"My country owes you nothing. I owe you nothing."

.

Maria attempts to push past the spears, only to have hands grab and drag her away.

Her anger has heightened, not only at the queen, but at herself, at everyone.

~o~

Maria is thrown into the cell, glaring at the guards who slam the gate shut and walk away.

She grips the bars tightly, staring at Fayt, who has his back turned to everyone in a loose fetal position.

.

"Fayt!" Maria shouts. "Wake up!" She bangs on the gate, hoping the clatter will rouse Fayt from slumber.

.

"Maria, what are you doing?" Cliff stands beside her.

.

"What the hell did you do!?" Maria continues, unable to feel in control of the situation.

She scowls at Albel, who sits on the ground, claws moving slowly up and down his arm.

"And why the hell are you so quiet? You're not innocent in this are you? What happened to him!?"

.

"Maria." Cliff spins her around, his hands on her shoulders, heavy and demanding. "What's wrong? What did the queen say?"

He pulls her away from the bars to have more privacy from listening ears, but she slaps his arms away.

.

"The magistrate is dead!" Maria snaps.

"What idiot goes around killing a high ranking official? To have some fun? To start trouble!?"

Maria barks, glaring at Albel again. "Sounds like something _you_ would do."

.

"Shut up, you stupid woman." Albel snaps, eyes narrowed, claws clicking on the floor. "You know nothing."

.

"I know enough! Fayt is in trouble and if he doesn't clear his name, he's screwed." Maria looks to Cliff.

"The queen is intent to point the finger at Fayt, and make the rest of us his accomplices."

.

"What evidence does she have?" Cliff asks.

.

"Bloody clothing! And her obvious distaste for foreigners. That's all she has!

We don't even know if it's Laselle's blood. It could just be from Fayt's wounds." Maria rattles on, pacing back and forth,

bubbling with anger. "She doesn't even have the gull to give me any real evidence,

just concern masked as concrete reasons! For what purpose would Fayt go around slicing people? He's not a monster."

.

"You must accompany me." Clair interrupts, pointing to Sophia, who has been silent throughout the whole exchange.

.

Cliff stares at Clair, at her calm demeanor and rigid posture, but her eyes look reassuring,

much more in control of the situation, much more tempered than Nel's anger.

.

"You'll be ok." Cliff whispers into Sophia's ear as she is hauled out of the cell.

Clair and Cliff momentarily stare at one another, Cliff silently asking for Sophia not to be harmed.

Clair blinks and walks away.

~o~

Five hours. Maria is sure it has been five hours since Sophia was taken.

What questions would take _five hours _to answer? Maria cringes inwardly.

What she really wants to ask is if any of those questions are accompanied by painful blows to the face?

.

How can they think Sophia a criminal?

.

Maria glances at Fayt, who tosses and turns in bed. At one point, he turned completely to face her.

She saw a dim glow in his eye from the corridor light before he quickly resumed his previous position.

Ah, he is awake. Is he aware of what is happening?

.

The bed dips and Maria snaps her attention to Cliff,

who sighs heavily and rests his head against the wall, his arms over his legs, fingers loose.

.

"Hey." Cliff calls softly, tilting his head slightly. She almost does not catch the movement. "Are you ok?"

.

Maria draws her legs close to her chest, creating a barrier between the rest of the world and herself.

She wants to shut down her brain. She has been thinking too much about their predicament, about Fayt, about Cliff…

.

"I'm fine." Maria answers, voice strained. She can feel his eyes roam her figure.

It is an intrusive stare, as if he is looking for a way to break the barrier she has set up and free her.

If she stays still, is quiet enough, maybe Cliff will think better about talking to her.

.

"No…you're not." Cliff states after a brief silence. He draws near and she immediately scoots away,

only to have his strong arm wrap around her shoulder and bring her close.

She wants to fight against his gentle grip, but his warmth is unexpected.

The urge to smooth the wrinkles forming on his forehead and between his brows bubbles in her chest.

She wants to smack him, shout that she is tired of his careful touches and concerned eyes.

She does not need any of it, his affection or pity.

.

Ever since their argument, Maria could tell his distancing was obvious; always watching from afar, but never approaching her.

He had been waiting for a sign, she thinks, to be let in. Had she given him what he wanted,

or does she appear so helplessly vulnerable that he saw she needs comfort?

.

Cliff whispers, "You used to sit like this a lot when you first came to the Diplo."

.

She finally glances at him, surprised at the turn in conversation.

.

"You used to hide in corners of the ship, especially in the engine room, even though I told you not to go in there.

You'd have this gloomy expression on your face that hurt to see. Do you know how small you looked;

hugging your knees so close to yourself? I thought I could hold you in my palm." Cliff explains, chuckling low.

.

She remembers needing a place to feel distracted from her thoughts.

The engine room was a living organism on the Diplo; clicking, buzzing, and smelling like overheated computer chips,

while the blinking blue and yellow lights were eyes constantly watching her.

She would stare back sometimes, wondering if those lights could see through her, see her pain.

.

Maria had wanted to see her mother again, tried to understand her sacrifice.

They could have squeezed into the escape pod together, she is sure of it. They could have lived somewhere,

started a new life away from the Federation. How had her mother thought she would be better off alone, without family?

.

Cliff had tried so hard to be supportive; sitting beside her,

talking about the broken coffee machine in the kitchen and the defunct control pad to the shower.

He kept on and on about inconsequential things, and she was grateful for it,

because hearing his voice had provided a sense of calm to her aching heart.

.

"I'm not good with kids, but I tried. Mirage was better at that then I'd ever be."

He pauses, hugs her tighter. "She was always a completely different person with you."

.

Maria looks up sharply. Why must he mention her at a time like this?

.

"Mirage has always been a tough woman. When I first met her, she didn't want anyone to protect her.

That suited me fine at the time. I wasn't a babysitter to anyone's emotions.

But then it started to bother me a bit…especially when you came into the picture."

Maria feigns disinterest by staring at the cracks in the stone floor. "She's always been nice,

but I've never seen her as gentle as she was with you, I guess because she understood you in some way,

she had lost her mother too when she was young."

.

"_I know this already, stop reminding me of things that make me less jealous. I want to hate her. Don't give me a reason not to."_

_._

"I'd watch the way she was delicate with you, talked to you, tried to make you feel welcome, showed you around the ship.

It was pretty eye opening…and creepy to see her in that way." Cliff admits and laughs. "I guess you made me realize I was-"

.

"Shut up." Maria is shaking, she slowly attempts to remove Cliff's hand, but he holds onto her.

.

"Maria-"

.

"Why are you telling me this?" Maria whispers harshly.

She imagines a needle attached to thread stitched haphazardly in her heart,

without an apparent pattern, without a sense of direction. The needle pulls, squeezing the stitches tighter,

squeezing blood from her heart, trying to empty her out of everything she feels…

.

…and it does. Her heart is draining of blood fast.

.

"Are you telling me this to hurt me?"

.

"What? No, where would you get an idea like that?" Cliff asks in utter confusion.

.

"I can't do this anymore." Maria whispers, but Cliff does not hear her as he continues to plow forward.

.

"Listen. I'm trying to make you understand why I-"

.

"Don't you dare say it!" Maria shouts, a burst of energy surging through body as she jumps from her seat.

"I don't want to hear about Mirage anymore, we have other things to worry about."

.

"We're not in a position to do much right now, are we?" Cliff points out, arm swinging out,

hand sweeping across the room to emphasis his point. "If I can't understand what the hell is going on out there,

I wanna at least understand what's going on in here." Cliff walks forward and taps Maria's head lightly.

She laughs bitterly at this, pushing his hand away. "What's wrong? Make me understand!"

She cannot gaze at Cliff. "Why do you hate Mirage?"

.

"I don't hate her."

.

"Then why don't you want me to marry her?" His tone is stern, leaves no room for hiding. Her ears tickle and her arms tingle.

.

Even when she thought of the question herself on quiet nights alone, she could never lie about the why.

So why should she here? She is tired of hiding.

.

"…It's because I care." Maria answers softly. Her face feels cold, drained of blood, her heart is emptying, emptying…

.

"Wha-Make some sense, Maria. Did she do something I should know about? Are you afraid of me getting hurt?"

.

"I care more than I should." Maria speaks clearly this time.

She can see it, his eyes flickering with concern and she knows if she doesn't say it now, she never will.

It has been difficult to hold back all she feels. She wants the struggle to be over, she wants to move on.

Hopefully when this ordeal is settled, she could return to Earth, maybe cut ties with Cliff for awhile, find someone new,

no-oh god, she couldn't do that yet. _"Get away from him first Maria, that's your main goal right now."_

.

"Maria?"

.

"It's never had anything to do with Mirage. I just care for you more than a friend." Maria whispers, arms slack at her side.

There, she said it. No, she needs to be absolutely straight with him. "I lo-I'm in love with you." There, that is better.

There is no point in being cryptic anymore, what purpose had there been for her to be that way in the first place?

It was a useless attempt to avoid the inevitable.

.


	21. Chapter Preview

_Hello, hello, don't hurt me, haha. Anyway, sorry for the excessively large delay in updating this story. We're so close to the end! _

_My office is moving to a new space, so most of my time has been absorbed into this massive project (especially since I'm one of the people in charge in getting the office up and out), so it's been extremely stressful. This whole process will be complete at the end of the month, so my time will free up considerably once everything is said and done. _

_There are other reasons that added to the huge delay, but fear not, I'm almost back on track._

_Anyway, once I update this new chapter, I believe there are three chapters left (that including the epilogue). This new chapter is typed out already, I just have to edit it._

_As you all wait patiently (which I'm truly grateful for), here is a small preview of the next chapter. It might get some more editing done, and the format still has to be changed to match the rest of it. It's funny, because throughout this whole process of writing the story, I'm leaning more and more towards a typical formatting (as you'll see below). Just let the words be as they are, you know? But I'm too far in to change the formatting now._

_Anyway, enjoy this snippet!_

* * *

Bindings chaff uncomfortably into Sophia's wrists, her skin raw, tender. She huddles in a corner, the only source of light seeping underneath the door frame, hitting the legs of a lone chair in the room's center. This cell was specially designed for magic wielders, Clair had explained, cloaked with resistance charms to nullify magic. It was a precaution, Clair had said, to protect themselves from any surprises… "From my lies," Sophia finishes in finality.

She had been questioned for hours- "_Where were you during the Magistrate's murder? What were you doing? Are you prone to leaving on secret escapades at night? Did you know of Fayt's plans? His thirst for needless killing-"_

She rubs her forehead against the stone wall, an itch developing, a headache oncoming. Clair said she was lucky; this kind of treatment was mild compared to what they usually put their prisoners through. Sophia had tuned out Clair after that. Her supposed luck will not sway her to spew lies against Fayt and the others. She will not fold.

Shivering, the room sinks a deep cold into her bones, smelling of pulled teeth and blood stained walls. Is this where Aquaria's darker secrets lie, hidden beneath impeccable marble floors, sashaying robes, and lavish banquets? Is Fayt's soul as black as it is in here, just as acquainted with death as Death itself?

The thought stirs feelings she wishes to forget. Betrayal knocks on the door of her heart, demanding entry. What had Fayt done to place them in this situation, or had this been a sinister ploy orchestrated by the queen?

Sophia hears movement beyond the door, hopeful the interrogators will return her to her original cell, but none enter. Silence soon follows and she is left with her thoughts again, waiting for something to happen. "_Always waiting_." She huffs at the thought.

She realizes how much of a follower she has been; waiting for someone to show her a path and never creating much of one for herself, like being a willing participant to her parents' expectations: go to college, get a job, fall in love, be happy, and have a quiet life. A blind accomplice to their secrets: Go to Moon Base, awaken her power, walk through dimensions, save the world, save _everyone_.

These paths were traitorous, tricky, had thickened the skin of her stubbornness, thinned the layer of cuteness she once exuded so heavily. She is suddenly irritated by it all. The only time she followed her heart was when she confessed her dormant feelings for Fayt, and look where that had gotten her: trapped in a cell with no food or water, chasing after maybe relationships and misadventures. She should have been looking out for herself for once, but she had not listened to her instincts. Her heart wanted to be wherever Fayt was.

"_How did I do this to myself,_" she thinks, "_how could I place myself last on a list I didn't know had grown so long?_"


End file.
